Rules of Attraction
by Thorne Lockehart
Summary: When opposites attract, sometimes, there really are no rules for attraction. Rewrite of the original. Flack/OC
1. Second Thoughts

**_A/N: Because I keep getting messages about this, Rules of Attraction is back! This is gonna be a little different from the original because it's been, well, a while since I've written it, but I hope you guys like it just the same. And for those of you just now reading this, Lindsay does come in on a later date! For reference on Callie, look up Jodi Lynn O'Keefe and James Denton for Jesse Hunter._**

**_Disclaimer: I own no one of CSI: NY. Just Isabella Pacino and any other character you don't recognize._**

**_Summary: When opposites attract, sometimes, there really are no rules for attraction._**

* * *

_I've listened to preachers, I've listened to fools_

_I've listened to dropouts who make their own rules_

_One person conditioned to rule and control_

_The media sells it and you live the role_

_Mental wounds still screaming, driving me insane_

_I'm going off the rails on a crazy train_

Ozzy Osbourne — Crazy Train

* * *

Isabella Pacino wasn't what some would call a 'people person.' And she definitely wasn't the high-society type. In fact, she avoided even travelling to any sort of crime scene in that area if she could, though she couldn't avoid living in it. She stood outside of a brick apartment building uptown with a grimace. She left early on a first date for _this_? Jesse Hunter was a very attractive lawyer that she'd met through one of her best friends. After a few months of flirting, she'd agreed to go out to dinner with him. When Isabella received the call to the crime scene, she'd been forced to apologize and had to leave.

"Hey, Pacino, nice legs. What time do they open?" a uniform cracked when she set down her kit. She rolled her eyes and tied her long navy blue coat closed to cover up the red halter-neck cocktail dress she wore.

"When your mother closes hers," she retorted. After all the fuss she'd put into getting ready, it seemed like a total waste to go to a crime scene. She saw uniforms surrounding Flack and pursed her lips. Isabella had worked with the crime lab for two and a half years and she tried to refuse to let herself get sucked in by the womanizer of the New York Police Department. But with the dry, sarcastic sense of humor they both possessed, along with a mutual love of classic rock among other things, it wasn't easy. "What did you do now?"

"Zip it, short-stack, I'm not in the mood. I just chased down a car that's got the bounce-back of a jellyfish," he told her.

"What kinda car was it?" Isabella asked, pulling a notepad out of her coat pocket. She glanced up at him. His dark hair was mussed, his white dress shirt open to show his muscular frame, and he was a bit scruffy. Her face warmed when she caught herself gaping at him. She'd been around attractive people her entire life; what was it about him that turned her from cool and confident into a babbling idiot?

"You're the car buff," he replied. "It just...looked like a James Bond car."

She perked up at that. "An Aston Martin?" she inquired. A blue-collar girl at heart, she knew a lot about a few things: forensics, horses, and cars.

"You're the car buff," he repeated. She grinned at him and wrote down his descriptions of the car as he listed them off.

"Would I have liked the car, Flack?"

"Short Stack, you would have flipped your lid over it."

And until Stella had called Isabella to interview Devon, the night had gone pretty well. Devon Maxford was a spoiled little rich girl in a candy store for raging cop fetishes. Isabella never felt more disgusted of anyone in her life. Even Flack looked a little embarrassed at Devon's gushing of the earlier events.

"What?" he asked her when Devon left the room. Isabella looked up at him incredulously. There were no words of her disgust.

"Nothing. She just doesn't seem to..." she let herself trail off. She shook her head to cut herself from saying what she was thinking. Devon didn't respect him one bit. She treated him like an accessory, like a dog she could cart around in her purse.

"You at least have the decency to cut yourself off. You should have heard how Callie berated me earlier," he commented. Isabella pursed her lips to hold her tongue. Callisto "Callie" Smythe was infamous for saying stuff other people were thinking.

"You don't wanna hear my opinion," Isabella responded. She crossed her arms across her chest, blue-flame meeting dark blue. "Because my mama raised me better than that."

"Let me guess. Whore with a raging cop fetish or just flat-out whore?" Flack snarled. It was her turn to get taken aback.

"I met her all of two minutes ago. What the honest hell would I know about Devon Maxwell or whatever the hell her name is?" she pointed out.

* * *

Isabella slammed the door shut to her apartment, growling in annoyance. She kicked off her black and white heels and hung up her coat.

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" she declared to the quiet dimness of her apartment.

_If you hate him, then why are you thinking about him again? _that little voice in her mind asked. Don Flack was definitely the type of man she couldn't afford to pay any attention.

Ever since she'd met him, he'd had the power to cut her to jelly.

She saw a bouquet of dark red roses sitting in a glass vase on the granite counter-top. As an act of panic, Isabella's grandfather had told Isabella to live in his Park Avenue penthouse and pitch in with utilities. The building had a doorman and she appreciated the sentiment; she needed someone to look after her while she was off the clock. Her name was on a card in the depths of the sweet-smelling blossoms.

"Looks like you made an impression on Jesse," Callie's voice came from the back room. She lived with Isabella and Jess in the spacious five-bedroom space. "He called me up, singing your praises."

"I had a good time with him," Isabella replied, pulling the little card from the envelope, realizing it'd been opened. Sitting by the glass vase was a little white teddy bear with a little red heart perched on its little lap. She read the card aloud. "Isabella. So sorry our enchanting evening got cut short. Looking forward to seeing you again. Love, Jesse."

"Sorry, I had to read it. He got you dark chocolate truffles from Godiva. Didn't I tell you he was a total catch?" Callie said, leaning against the door-frame of her bedroom. Her ivory cocktail dress was loose on her tall, willowy frame and she stood barefoot on the plush white carpeting.

"He was really sweet and gentlemanly to me during dinner," Isabella replied, slipping the card back in the envelope and set it back on the holder. "These roses are gorgeous." It'd been a long time since she'd been spoiled silly on a date without being expected to 'hold up her end of the bargain' later. Jesse had been attentive and flat-out perfect. It didn't hurt that they were cut from the same cloth. The same way she came from a long line of horse breeders and mobsters, he'd come from a long line of cattle ranchers in Tennessee.

"I knew he was perfect for you," Callie crowed. She crossed her arms over her chest, surveying the petite woman before her. "Now if only Flack would listen to me about that whore Devon..."

Isabella's moony expression vanished at the sound of his name. She padded into the kitchen for a bottle of water. "Well, he's a grown man. If he wants to date someone who's clearly a badge bunny, that's his business," she responded.

"Devon's dad and my dad were best friends. I know that bitch like the back of my hand," Callie said sourly. Isabella rolled her eyes again and took a sip of the chilled water. "You met her, too, huh? She'll stab you in the back as pretty as you please. I'm pretty sure you have some down-home sayings about that, right?"

Isabella snorted. "What, just because my cotton ain't as high quality as yours doesn't make me some sorta bumpkin, Cal. I don't think she respects him at all, but I'm not gonna get involved."

"Honey, she doesn't even respect herself. She's the kinda girl who thinks it's a tease to wait till the third date to...you know," Callie said, gesturing wildly with her slim hands. Her blue eyes were glittering in irritation, her dark brown hair let loose from its earlier up-do.

"Dance the horizontal tango?" Isabella guessed. Callie cackled as she turned around to unzip the dress. Isabella pulled the zipper down the track to expose a black lace bra. "I guess a thief interrupted them before they could do it."

"Good. Flack might catch something from her."

* * *

When Callie disapproved of something, everyone knew about it. Her belligerence meant that she cared, unfortunately. Don knew that getting an opinionated friend was part of the package when he met Callisto Smythe. It didn't surprise him that she disapproved of Devon. Hell, Devon had her own opinion of the tall, willowy brunette and made it no secret that she detested her.

Stella hadn't voiced her disapproval, but it was in her green-gray eyes as she talked to him, along with Mac.

But Isabella was a different story. She started to say something, but cut herself off. She'd never been good at hiding anything and her pursed lips had said it all. He valued her opinion, merely because she didn't blow things out of proportion. She stated it, then let it go.

Don liked Isabella, he always had. The first thing he noticed when he first met her was her smile. It scrunched up her small nose and crinkled the corners of her pretty blue eyes.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her number. For what seemed like ages, it rang.

_"Hello?" _a sleepy voice rasped.

"Sorry to wake you up, but I wanted to apologize for jumping on you earlier. I asked your opinion and bit your head off when you almost said what I didn't wanna hear," he told her in a rush. It was three in the morning and his shift at the station started in four hours. Being cranky seemed unavoidable at this point.

_"It's fine. I kept my opinion to myself because it wasn't very nice," _she murmured.

"And thanks for that," he said.

_"Hey, Don?" _

"Yeah?"

_"I'm gonna go back to sleep now. See you at work tomorrow." _

"Alright, short-stack. See you then."


	2. Levi's Got Angell Eyes

**_A/N: I'm actually surprised at how quickly I fell in love with writing this story. And there COULD be a happy ending at the end of this road, folks! I suck at sequels. However, I kind of want to speed things along, merely because I get in my fluff moods and my muse doesn't like it if I ignore my fluffy feelings._**

**_By the way, for Chris Flack, I have an older dark-haired Chace Crawford pictured for him._**

**_Rain: I know, glad you like it!_**

**_Anna: Well, you talked me into it :) And thank you!_**

**_Niki: Interesting theory, but we'll have to wait and see ;)_**

* * *

_There's a little bit of devil in those angel eyes  
She's a little bit of heaven with a wild side  
Got a rebel heart a country mile wide  
There's a little bit of devil in her angel eyes  
There's a little bit of devil in her angel eyes  
And I can't help wondering  
What it would feel like to hold her all night  
She's got that something, that sexy innocence  
She must be heaven-sent_

Love & Theft — Angel Eyes

* * *

Isabella hated the way things were sometimes. As it turned out, dating a lawyer wasn't such a good idea. After she'd arrested Maude for murder and for stealing an Aston Martin, Jesse turned out as her legal representation. It became a little clear that cops and lawyers weren't a good mix.

She had her Martin guitar set across her lap as she sprawled out on the couch, strumming absent-mindedly at the strings. So much to think about that she didn't want to think about. Every time she looked at the background on her phone of herself with Grandma Brennan, her fingers strummed the song her grandmother sang so many times while she did housework and barn work.

"I'll be yours until the sun doesn't shine, 'til time stands still, until the winds don't blow. When today's just a memory to me, I know I'll still be loving, I'll still be loving you, I'll still be loving you," she murmured the lyrics.

Then she strummed out the intro and sighed deeply.

_Changing my life with your love  
__Has been so easy for you  
__And I'm amazed every day and I'll need you  
__'Til all the mountains are valleys  
__And every ocean is dry, my love_

_I'll be yours until the sun doesn't shine  
'Til time stands still, until the winds don't blow  
When today's just a memory to me, I know  
I'll still be loving, I'll still be loving you  
I'll still be loving you_

_Never before did I know how loving someone could be  
Now I can see you and me for a lifetime  
Until the last moon is rising, you'll see the love in my eyes, my love_

_I'll be yours until the sun doesn't shine  
'Til time stands still, until the winds don't blow  
When today's just a memory to me, I know  
I'll still be loving, I'll still be loving you  
I'll still be loving you_

"Wow, I haven't heard that one in a long time," Levi commented. Isabella smiled shyly from her perch and picked at the strings again. "Grandma Brennan used to sing that song about Granddaddy and to the horses."

"I couldn't forget that song if I tried," she replied. "It's one of my favorite songs."

She could picture Rae Brennan singing the old Restless Heart song in that off-key croak of hers with her mess of coppery red hair piled on top of her head and carrying a feed bucket, dressed in a pair of beat-up jeans and a sleeveless plaid blouse.

Isabella put the guitar back in its case and flipped the lid shut, locking it securely. "I gotta get dressed, I'm going out to lunch. Jess is gonna be back soon. You kinda kept her up late last night."

She stifled a yawn and carried the black guitar case to her bedroom. Levi stared at her in complete shock.

"What, you thought I wouldn't put two and two together and figure out that you're sleeping with my roommate?" she remarked. "Besides, I saw you sneaking out last night."

She left her brother standing in shock in the kitchen while she shut the door.

* * *

It was warm in the coffee shop, thank goodness. New York had a cold snap early this year and though there wasn't a promise for snow, Isabella knew better to be safe than sorry. She picked a teal sweater, her thickest pair of what she called her 'barn jeans', a pair of knee-high boots, and her black Carhartt jacket. Levi tried being sarcastic with her, but Isabella supposed he was still reeling that he'd been busted with Jess Angell.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Detective Pacino," the barista commented. Kim was a sweet blonde girl who attended school at Chelsea University. She had Isabella's coffee order memorized, though Isabella hadn't been in a few weeks. " Two Kona mocha frappes with caramel, shortbread syrup, hazelnut, three shots of espresso, and extra whip, right?"

"You're amazing, Kim," Isabella replied, shucking her coat off and draping it over her arm. She shivered at the lone chill that breezed into the coffee shop when the door opened as she stood in line.

"This place just got classier!" someone crowed. She looked over her shoulder to see Chris Flack standing behind her. The little coffee shop by the lab made her feel like she was Norm on the classic TV show _Cheers. _Everybody knew her name there. "Long time, no see, Pacino."

"How's your brother doing?" Isabella asked. Flack and Chris were brothers, but they both tried to deny it. Chris worked for the FDNY and Don Flack was NYPD. It was sibling rivalry.

"You tell me. You see Donnie more than I do," Chris shrugged. He was nearly as tall as his older brother with the same shaggy dark hair and dark blue eyes and broad frame.

"Pardon me for trying to make conversation," Isabella teased, tilting her head to the side. He simply smirked at her and shook his head. "So those slave drivers in the firehouse let you come outside and play today?"

"I was gonna ask the same thing of you. Funny," he returned. Then he leaned over to talk low in her ear. "But the firemen do have the better selling calendars than the cops do."

"Mm, is that why more people have cop fetishes than they have firemen fetishes?" she said, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. He grinned crookedly at her. For a second, he looked exactly like his older brother. "It's the cuffs."

"You sounded just like my brother just then," he stated.

* * *

"So, today, I was just compared to you," Isabella commented, leaning against Don's desk. She set down a frappe next to him and took a seat in the plastic chair next to his desk. His eyebrow arched questioningly as he looked up from his paperwork. "Again."

"Oh? By who?" he asked, taking a sip of the coffee. The tiny brunette was forever bringing him new coffee concoctions to try and so far, she'd been spot on with her ideas. "How is it that I've lived here longer than you, but you still know where all the good coffee is?"

"Because I'm talented, that's why," she replied. "And it was by your brother, Chris. He goes to the same coffee shop I do and he made a joke about firemen and cops, so I got him back by saying people have more cop fetishes than fireman fetishes." That didn't surprise him. Newbies and visiting detectives were thrown off by their friendship. According to them, no two people could be as close as they were without dating.

"The cuffs, right?"

She laughed, sipping her frappe from a straw. "Yup. That's exactly what I said," she confirmed.

"You one of those women with a cop fetish, short-stack?" he commented. Isabella grinned broadly at him.

"Hell, no, Flack, I got a cowboy fetish that I inherited from the Brennan side of the family," she declared.

"There aren't any cowboys in the city," Don reminded her. She stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her legs. "Okay, I'm done looking at all this paperwork. I think I'm caught up from my past cases. Wanna go ahead and head out for lunch?"

"Sure. This place is a freaking rumor mill," she answered, standing up. She looked around the bullpen warily. "I swear, I learn new things about me every day."

"You and me both. Did you know that I dumped Devon for you after I found out I got you pregnant?" he returned. That made her laugh hysterically.

"No, I didn't," she giggled. She pulled on her thick black jacket and zipped it up, burying herself in its warmth. "God, it's colder than a witch's boob in a brass bra out there."

He laughed out loud. "I don't think I've ever heard that saying before. You've lived here for two and a half years and you're _still _not used to the winters here?"

"Notice how I'm used to the summers? Besides, it's making my knee hurt."

"You getting old on me, Pacino?"

"Shut it, Flack."

* * *

After lunch, it was a contest to see who knew scarier movies. Don had insisted on _Texas Chainsaw Massacre. _Isabella cringed into the sofa, her eyes glued to the TV screen. He glanced over at her and made the mistake of brushing his fingers along the back of the couch to her head.

"Holy fucking shit!" she screeched, jumping a mile on the couch. It caused a chain reaction of events. She smacked him hard, for one, and Jazzy, Callie's beloved white long-haired Chihuahua barked loudly. Don snorted in laughter and she glared at him balefully. "That's not funny, you ass!"

"I didn't mean to scare you," he apologized. He held out his arm and she slowly scooted back over to him. If he played his cards right, he might end up with a petrified Isabella on his lap. "Sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, just you wait until you see my pick. I picked a movie that will psychologically fuck you up," she muttered. He'd seen _Texas Chainsaw Massacre _a thousand times and he found himself glancing over at her. "Jesus, I might have to sleep in Callie's room tonight."

"Take pictures," he joked. Another hard smack to his chest and he grunted. "Kidding. If I knew you were such a lightweight, I would've picked _The Shining_."

"Red rum," she growled, imitating Danny Torrance. Then she cringed when one of the people became bound to a chair made of human body parts. "I swear, if there was a crime scene we found like this, I might throw up."

"We can shut it off, if you want," he suggested. She shook her head, her dark hair flying. Her small hands flew to her face and her tiny body tensed during a particularly bloody scene.

"I just don't like horror movies based on true stories," she explained once the movie was over.

"You'd rather watch the movies that are the outcome of a writer's sick, twisted imagination?" he guessed. She nodded.

"At least it's imaginary," she pointed out. Don stared at the face of his watch in the dim lamplight. Thank God he had the day off tomorrow. It was his first full day off in two weeks. "I'm hungry. Want something?"

"After watching a movie chock-full of gore and guts, you're hungry?" he commented with an arch of his eyebrow. Isabella shrugged and slid off the couch, her petite body dressed in a pair of black and white polka dot pajama pants and a red T-shirt that fit snugly to her lithe form. He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about what that body looked like under the clothes she wore. He'd seen it outlined in various clothes and hadn't stopped wondering since.

"So you're not hungry?" she called. He chuckled low in his throat.

"I didn't say that."

She giggled and he heard dishes being moved around. "Dammit, Levi!" she cursed.

"What'd he do now?" Don asked, looking from the living room into the kitchen. It was open-concept, thank God. He could see her in there if he craned his neck upward. One thing the Upper East Side got right was their floor plans.

"He ate all my bacon!" Isabella lamented. "That jerk-face ate all of my bacon!"

"A serious crime against nature!" he joked. He got up from the couch to check through the movie titles she had spread out on the antique-looking coffee table.

"Uh-uh. My turn, Flack," she reminded him. "I say we watch _Psycho_."

"Anything but a chick flick, please," he requested, popping in the DVD.

* * *

It was hard for Isabella to focus on the movie when she felt Flack playing with her hair. It was something he'd done before, but when his fingers brushed her face or her ear, her skin prickled. She'd seen the movie millions of times, so she let her mind wander.

"You alright?" His breath tickled her ear and she nodded. She cuddled deeper into her warm blanket, suppressing a shiver. "Cold?"

"Creeped out is more like it."

"Izzy, I'm not gonna bite you."

_No, but it's taking all my self-control to keep from jumping you, _she thought to herself. The blanket did more than just keep her warm, it was a physical barrier between them so she wasn't doing anything inappropriate. They'd nearly kissed twice since they met and they were interrupted by someone each time. _Come on, Jess, Callie, Levi, Danny, someone! Get the distraction over with!_

"I know," she said instead. Then he picked up the remote to the DVD player and paused the movie. "What?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me. You're fairly predictable and I'm getting mixed signals here," Flack stated. Isabella glanced at the clock on the cable box. Callie got off work in fifteen minutes and Jess got off at ten.

"Every time we get any closer than this," she explained, sliding closer to him. "Someone interrupts. I'm waiting for someone to come in."

"Well, you said earlier that Callie gets off at nine and Jess gets off at ten. We have a whole fifteen minutes, plus the traffic factor," he pointed out. She leaned forward to collect their dishes from the table and his strong hands encircled on her waist, gently tugging her back to a sitting position on the couch. "I just wanna know if this thing is one-sided."

"It's not," she murmured. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "Look, Don..."

His hands didn't leave her sides and the parts that were touching her bare skin sent shivers rolling down her spine. Did she want to kiss him? Yes.

Should she? No. There was a certain line one didn't cross and kissing someone you worked with was one of them. Isabella had a strict no-dating policy when it came to co-workers. Just because Callie flipped it the bird in her dramatic way so she could date Danny didn't mean that Isabella could. It was immoral, it was risky, it was...

Then his hands slipped lower to tug her forward, erasing any doubt. Flack's fingers traced the little divots on the small of her back.

She leaned forward, hesitating just inches from his mouth. Her fingers gripped that little patch of hair on the back of his neck and he pulled her in.

The door flew open and she jumped away immediately, smoothing the front of her T-shirt. Her gaze snapped up to the door and a flood of annoyance filled her.

Callie grinned as she shut the door behind her. "Hey, what'd I miss?" she asked.


	3. Family Traditions

**_A/N: I almost made this chapter an M but I'm saving that for a later date._**

**_Rain: Glad you liked the lines lol I really do love this story. Stealing someone's bacon is a crime against nature!_**

**_Somebody: I know. They got interrupted!_**

**_Anna: They'll get their moment, don't worry lol. It's so sweet of you to say that. I haven't forgotten about you, don't worry lol I've just been crazy busy._**

* * *

_Oh, it's been hard living with the things you do to me  
My dreams are getting so strange  
I'd like to tell you everything I see  
Oh, I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact  
His eyes were as red as the sun  
And the girl in the corner that no one ignores  
'Cause she thinks she's the passionate one  
_

_And the man in the back said "Everyone attack"  
And it turned into a ballroom blitz  
And the girl in the corner said "Boy, I want to warn you  
It'll turn into a ballroom blitz"_

Sweet — Ballroom Blitz

* * *

Isabella hated dumpster diving with a passion. She blew her dark bangs out of her pale face as she rifled through the trash. It smelled horrific.

"Anything on your end, Danny?" she heard Callie call. There was a cough and a huff.

"Nothing yet, Princess. You?" Danny replied. Callie let out a shriek and Isabella's head popped up and saw her friend waving her arms to keep her balance.

"Nothing at all!" she said angrily. Danny looked over at Isabella.

"I haven't found a damn thing," she shrugged. She hoisted herself out of the dumpster and landed with a thud. A tiny mew came from under the dumpster.

"Dammit, Isabella, you may have grown up around animals, but do you have to keep meowing?" Callie retorted. Isabella held up her hands in defense.

"That's not me," she insisted. Then she heard it a mew, this time desperate. She got to her knees and pulled out her flashlight, beaming it under. A tiny grungy kitten peered back at her and mewed again. "It's a kitten!"

"Well, no shit," Callie muttered. Isabella clicked her tongue and reached under the dumpster, rubbing her fingers.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty," she cooed. She felt her fingers wrap around the kitten's body and she pulled it out. It blinked at the sunlight and mewed again, tilting its little head back. "Hi, kitty-kitty."

Underneath the grime was a pair of light green eyes and a white blaze splattered with freckles on its muzzle and a ginger pelt. It blinked at her slowly, extending its tiny claws into her palms.

"Well, look at Doctor Doolittle, guys!" Danny commented. Isabella cupped the kitten in her small hands, examining it carefully.

"You're just a little thing, aren't you, honey?" she murmured, tucking it closer to her chest. It butted her chin, beginning to purr under her gentle touch. "Poor kitty-kitty." It couldn't be more than eight weeks old, if it was even that age.

"He's so cute," Callie said, extending a finger to stroke along its back. Isabella lifted it up to check under its tail. Sure enough, she was cuddling a little tomcat.

"Isn't he? Look at those eyes," she crooned, scratching the kitten's ears. His purr increased with volume, rubbing his nose along her fingers in a show of affection. "Hi, little Sebastian."

"Well, my mom calls me Donnie, but if you wanna call me Sebastian, I won't complain," she heard Flack tease. He stood in the mouth of the alley, taking in the two women and the tiny orange kitten. "Oh, shit. Keep that thing away from me."

Isabella gasped and tucked the kitten under her chin. "Don't talk about Sebastian that way!" she scolded with a scowl. "He's a kitten, not a thing!"

"I'm allergic to cats!" he reminded her. She frowned deeper and petted the kitten. Sebastian attached himself to the navy blue coveralls, climbing around on her shoulder. He seemed pleased with his new friends.

"Then you don't have to keep him," she returned.

* * *

Don Flack hated cats. Not only was he allergic to them, but they were mass weapons of pure evil, in his opinion. He woke up in the morning with a stuffy nose and watery eyes. He looked around to see the penthouse around him. After hanging out at the girls' place, he must have fallen asleep. There was a warm ball on his chest and he looked over to see Sebastian curled up in a content ball, fast asleep.

"Little bastard," he muttered, scooping up the kitten and setting him down on the floor. Don rolled off the couch and stretched, rolling the kinks out of his spine.

"Oh, you slept over," he heard Isabella comment. He looked over into the kitchen and immediately looked away. Her blue plaid shorts barely covered her ass and her purple tank top showed off a strip of her pale skin. "Want some coffee?"

"Uh, sure," he replied. His gaze dropped to the curve of her ass, watching the sway of her hips as she moved about the kitchen. If he was honest, he was definitely an ass man. Breasts were a close second. "You still got those cream singles?"

"Uh, no, Callie used the last of it," she answered. He walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching her move about. She set down a white ceramic coffee cup in front of him and he could smell the rich coffee wafting up. "It's not Brewster's, but I still think it's pretty damn good."

He turned away and sneezed. "I woke up to your damn cat on my chest this morning," he said. She frowned and picked up the kitten, walking out of the kitchen with it.

"I have some allergy medicine, if you need some," she offered. "I know I have some non-drowsy stuff." Then the damn thing got bold and nuzzled her, cuddling closer to her chest.

"Whatever happened to 'cats are evil and I wouldn't even be caught dead with one'?" Don asked. Isabella stuck her tongue out, setting the orange fuzzball on the window sill to sunbathe.

"I'm more of a dog person, it's true, but this little guy needed me," she replied. That was her. If he counted correctly, this was her fifth stray that she'd brought home, named, and nursed back to health. "Who knows, maybe this'll be the one I keep."

His phone rang on his holster and he picked it up. It was Levi. "Hey, man, what's up?" he said.

_"When was the last time you talked to my sister?" _Levi asked in a rush. He sounded worried and panicked. Don looked up to see the sister in question playing with the kitten.

"She's right here, playing with that damn kitten she rescued. What's going on?" he asked.

_"Make sure Isabella does not turn on the TV until I get there. If you get a call from Sythe, tell him you're there with Isabella. Whatever you do, make sure no one turns on the TV until we get there," _Levi instructed him. When Isabella reached for the remote to the TV, Don slapped it out of her hand without thinking and she gave him an incredulous look.

"What the fuck?" she wondered. He held up his finger.

_"There's been an accident with the FBI and our dad was involved." _Armando Pacino the Third was Isabella and Levi's father. The older man was former Mafia, but turned his life around for good and became a respected name in the NYPD and the FBI. _"If Isabella finds out, she's going to freak. Make sure no one goes near the TV until I get there, to reiterate."_

"Alright, I'll do that," Don replied. He snapped his phone shut and took the remote from her. "Your brother's on his way and it's important."

She watched him warily, her blue-flame eyes searching his face. "That's your cop voice. Something's happened," she stated.

Sirens screamed outside and she rushed to the window to look. "I'm getting my phone and I'm gonna call Mac."

He stood up and gripped her wrist. "Don't. Not until your brother gets here."

"Where do you get off telling me what I can and can't do?" Isabella demanded. She wrenched her wrist from his hand and stormed into her room, emerging five minutes later dressed in a pair of baggy jeans and a black pull-over. "Something's wrong and you're not telling me."

"Because Levi wanted to tell you himself," Don explained.

"To hell with Levi! There's something wrong and I want to know. _Now," _she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Then the door opened and the tall, lanky form of Levi Pacino was revealed.

"Come here," he told her. They met each other halfway before Levi pulled his sister into his arms. His muscular arms completely engulfed her petite body and he held her tightly. "There's been an accident, Zee-Zee..."

* * *

Isabella was numb all over as she leaned against the wall of the waiting room. Her father had been shot by a crack dealer and was in surgery at Queen of Mercy Hospital to remove the bullet. She needed to get there _now. _It was the closest she could be to her father, but there was nothing she could do.

God, she hated feeling helpless. There was nothing she could do. Her vision became blurred with hot tears and she grabbed the stack of mail, throwing it into the wall as hard as she could.

"That's not gonna help," her cousin Carmen commented from her perch in a chair. The words made Isabella snap.

"Well, excuse the ever-living fuck out of me!" she snarled. "That's _my _father in there that _your _boyfriend shot, Carmen. Nice to know the company our family keeps!"

"There's no need to turn into a raging bitch because your oh-so perfect daddy got shot," Carmen defended, her brown eyes flashing.

"By _your _oh-so perfect crack-dealing boyfriend!" Isabella didn't hesitate to point out. Truth be told, she was absolutely itching for a fight. She wanted to beat the ever-loving hell out of something or someone.

"Isabella, don't," she heard her Zia Serena warn. Isabella turned to face her aunt, her teeth gritting.

"He's _your _brother, why the fuck don't you defend him? Or is blood no longer thick between us because we're on opposite sides of the law?" she demanded. She slammed her hand into the wall and stormed out of the ICU waiting room. Her aggression hit an all-time high and she was about to punch someone.

Anger, confusion, fear, depression all welled within her and she could feel herself breaking down. Being there was only going to psyche her out and piss her off even more.

Isabella didn't care where she drove, but she needed to get out of there. Her father's family was chock-full of hypocrites and criminals.

"Welcome to the fucking family," she muttered, gripping the steering wheel of the beat-up Chevy. Rain pelted the windshield and she switched on the wipers. She wanted to hear her father tell her to calm down with _his _words. She wanted to hear that thick Italian accent, smell gunpowder and Old Spice, and feel him tug at her hair or play with her toes when he knew she was upset. Her phone rang in the cup-holder next to her and she snatched it up. Stella. "Pacino."

_"Hey, kiddo, how are you holding up?" _she asked. Isabella let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

"I'll let you know when I find out," she replied. She looked outside of the window to see she'd driven out to the coffee shop she frequented. Brewster's. A cup of tea would soothe her frazzled nerves. Ordinarily, she despised tea, but it sounded too damn good to pass up. Her conversation with Stella was short, thankfully. It wasn't that she didn't like her co-boss, she adored her, but at the moment, she wasn't a good conversationalist. "Hey, Kim. Can I get some of that lavender chamomile tea, please?"

She took a seat in one of the overstuffed armchairs by the large window and cradled her head in her hands. Tension made her shoulders hurt and she was confident she was going crazy.

"I'm afraid to ask you if you're okay," she heard a deep male voice comment. It wasn't Flack's but it was his brother's. Isabella glanced up to see Chris towering over her.

"I'm fine," she said flatly. She ran her hands through her dark hair, exhaling deeply through her nose. "Just fan-fucking-tastic."

A bell sounded through the air and her head lifted to see Flack walking through the door. Kim handed her the cup of tea and Isabella thanked her, pulling out a couple dollars to pay for it. The flowery scent was enough to partially soothe her nerves.

"I thought I might find you here in the infamous Brewster's," he remarked. She shook her head and took a sip of the tea, wrinkling her nose. "You hate tea."

"Aromatherapy," she explained. She couldn't explain why she hated hot tea, but loved sweet tea, but she did. "I nearly decked my cousin and my aunt at the hospital, so I had to get out of there. Carmen's dating the fucktard that shot my father."

Saying the words made the hot tears spring to her eyes again and she set down the cup. The last thing she wanted to think about was her life without her father. She couldn't even picture it.

"I can't even think about what might happen if he..." she forced herself to trail off. "God, I can't even make myself finish that sentence. I can't let myself think about the possible reality that he might not make it."

"Then don't," Flack suggested gently. The tears fell down her cheeks and she wiped them away quickly. "Come take a walk with me, Scout."

Her old nickname offered little comfort, but she accepted his outstretched hand in her own and let him help her up.

* * *

Don met Isabella two and a half years ago during the Lauren Redgrave case. She was a tiny little thing, her CSI windbreaker nearly hanging to her knees.

_A pair of pale blue eyes met his and a small smile flickered on her lips. This woman was petite with dark hair pulled back in a tight pony-tail, bangs sweeping across the left side of her pale face. She couldn't be much older than twenty-four, if she was even that old. _

_"Excuse me, I'm looking for Detective Bonasera," she requested in a twangy Southern accent. "Detective Taylor gave me this address for the crime scene."_

_Stella came around the corner and she sized up the petite woman. "Isabella Pacino, right?" she said. The woman nodded. "Wow...you're a lot younger than I expected."_

_"I get that a lot. Let's just say I'm the smart one of my family and leave it at that," she responded. Don had to laugh at her spunk. _

_Stella smiled. "Well, if you're here to work, then I've got just the job for you..."_

Now here she was on the verge of an absolute breakdown and he knew enough to get her out of a public establishment. She hated pity and they would pity her for the shit in her life.

Taking her back to his cluttered apartment was the least he could do after all she'd done. How many times had she scraped his drunk ass out of a bar and patiently put him to bed in one of the guest rooms, politely turning down his drunken advances?

More times than he'd like to admit, unfortunately. After that first case, he couldn't deny he felt something for her. That there was something about her that touched something in him that he wasn't sure he wanted anyone to touch. There was a connection.

"Thanks for putting up with me," she spoke up for the first time in five minutes, playing with the strings of her purple sweatshirt. The sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. "I needed that."

"Consider it even. You've scraped up my drunk ass out of a bar and stopped me from getting into fights. You needed somewhere to go for a little while, I'm what you need," he replied.


	4. Toughest Gal in Town

_**A/N: Well, this took me a whole two days to write x.x Hope it's a good one, guys!**  
_

_**Somebody: Glad you liked the cat lol**_

_**Annie: Well, Izzy just doesn't like cats. Hope you like this chapter, I blame you for my muse taking this story lol! (In a good way)**_

* * *

_I'm a bitch, I'm a tease_  
_I'm a goddess on my knees_  
_When you hurt, when you suffer_  
_I'm your angel undercover_  
_I've been numb, I'm revived_  
_Can't say I'm not alive_  
_You know I wouldn't want it any other way_

Meredith Brooks — Bitch

* * *

Don felt selfish. Here he was, taking his own father (albeit his namesake was a bastard) for granted when his friends seemed close to losing theirs. As far as seasoned cops went, Armando was a good man. He loved his children fiercely and was good at his job, though he fought the battle of career versus family like anyone did.

All Don could do was watch Isabella. The panic-stricken worry in her glassy, pale blue eyes as she held Armando's large hand in her own smaller hand. The gruff, scary-as-shit FBI agent Don Flack knew and feared seemed gone. Bruises and cuts dotted his cheekbone, a swollen cut on the right side of his lower lip. His large knuckles had bruises and cuts as well, indicating he put up one hell of a fight. Through the sheer hospital gown, Don could see the white gauze.

"Thank you for taking me here, Don. You didn't have to," Isabella said, speaking up for the first time. She blinked back her tears, staring at her father. "I've always seen him as untouchable or invincible. I've seen him in fights, but I've never seen him fight for his life before."

A lone tear fell down her cheek and she brushed it away quickly. Don rested his hand on her shoulder, rubbing a knot of tension with his thumb. Isabella leaned into him and he could hear her sniffle. He thought he'd seen every side of her, but this was new to him. He had seen her laugh, cry, fight, and love, but he had never seen her fall apart. In his eyes, he supposed, he always thought of _her_ as untouchable. Nothing could be bad until it was a frightening reality to one of the most optimistic people he knew.

"I'm completely falling apart here," she said with a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes again.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her. "We're all entitled to fall apart now and then."

Her head lifted, searching his face. "Thanks for being here," she murmured. She slipped her hand into his and stood up, squeezing it gently. He wrapped his arms around her body, her arms wrapping around his neck. "It means a lot."

He waited for the inevitable _You're a great friend, _but it never came out. She simply stared up at him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. It was a nervous, yet incredibly adorable gesture. Her arms slipped from around his neck and she bent down to pick up her purse.

"I'll be back later, Daddy." He knew she liked to think he could hear her through the thick haze of drugs, but it was doubtful that he could.

"Now I don't have to bail you out of lock-up for getting in a fight," Don commented. That got him a smile. She really did have a beautiful smile, it was the kind that lit up dark corners.

They walked out of the hospital room and an older woman gave them a baleful glare. Isabella's proverbial hackles rose and she pulled herself to her full five-feet, two inches.

"Isabella," the woman greeted her with a clipped tone. She was tall, with straight dark brown hair and shaggy bangs that hung in her face and a Playboy bunny body.

"Serena," Isabella gave her a cursory nod. No love lost between the two women. Serena stood up, her hands on her hips and walked over to her. She towered over the tiny CSI by a good half-foot, dark brown eyes glaring daggers into blue eyes. "What, did you tire of tormenting infants in the nursery?" Isabella retorted.

"I'm getting tired of your mouth. If your father could hear how you speak to your elders..." Serena started to say until Isabella cut her off.

"He'd clap me on the back and say 'good girl.' If he could hear how his only sister treats her niece, I think he'd be more than above his rights to put you in your place. Or maybe he'd be more interested in how Carmen defended her little scumbag boyfriend when he broke the law. Great parenting skills, by the way," she sneered. Don Flack never thought he'd see the day Isabella Pacino turned vindictive. "Or is it that Daddy no longer gets your loyalty now that he's a FBI agent?"

"Your father made his decision when he turned his back on us," Serena snarled. Don knew what 'us' meant. Armando Pacino flipped the family the bird when he left a life of crime to pursue police work. That made him enemy number one.

"Let me tell you how family's supposed to work, if I may. When someone takes a gun and shoots a member of your family, regardless of occupation, the usual reaction is to track the bastard down and make sure he's never found. Of course, unless they just happen to have a job that you don't like, like in this family, it's all about protecting the bastard," Isabella fired back. When she started taking slow, deliberate steps toward her aunt and speaking through her teeth, Don knew it was time to get her out of there before a cat-fight broke out in ICU. He tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the older woman. "Nice to know family's only family when you're a criminal."

When the crack of Serena's hand colliding with Isabella's cheek sounded through the air, Don gripped Isabella's waist and lifted her up to keep her from lunging.

"Says the little cop bitch living off her grandfather's generosity with her friends," Serena retorted. Isabella clawed at her, Italian flying from clenched teeth.

"We're leaving. Now," he informed her, corralling her towards the elevator. "Nice family you got there."

"Ha. Serena's never been the 'auntie' type," Isabella muttered. When the silver doors closed, she let loose her sailor tongue. "I cannot fucking believe that bitch. Who the ever-loving fuck does she think she is, treating me like I'm intruding? And she has the damn nerve to bitch-slap me like some child? She's lucky I didn't lay into her like I wanted to. They'd need to admit her into a room of her fucking own. And who the ever-loving fuck is she to talk? I'm not bumming off my grandfather, I do pay partial rent to the penthouse. I live there under his insistence. He fucking offered!"

He knew to keep quiet and let her rant it out. "Some people are just like that," he offered.

"And everyone wonders why I don't like people. Bitches like my father's family are reason why I fucking hate people. All they care about are their damn selves and who they can screw to get what they want," she said. She folded her arms over her chest, her head shaking in annoyance.

"And if you continue to think about it, you're letting them win. You're too competitive to let people win," he pointed out. She threw her hands up in the air when the doors opened.

"That's true," she admitted. Don followed her through the elevators and her shoulders went back. "I should have decked Serena. Make her think twice before bitch-slapping me. I'd love to go three rounds with her."

"Just three?" he asked amusedly. Isabella snorted contemptuously and tossed her head.

"Out of respect, a Pacino only goes a max of three when fighting with family," she explained. "Verbal, intellectual, and physical." She ticked off three fingers. "Serena hasn't made it this far without learning a few tricks. That sly bitch..."

"Can I say your family's kind of fucked up?" he said. She turned around to face him, her blue eyes sparking devilishly.

"Ain't news to me, slick," she responded.

* * *

Isabella's pride hurt more than anything. She touched her stinging cheek, gritting her teeth. Granted, she knew she acted like a brat and her ego needed to get brought down some, but getting bitch-slapped in the ICU wasn't a good way to do it.

She stared out the window of the department-issued Buick, watching the city scenery go by.

"Are you okay?" Flack asked quietly. Isabella looked over at him, and ran her fingers through her long hair, messing it around.

"As okay as I could be, considering the situation," she answered. She watched him for a moment, taking in his handsome face. There was so much she tried to fight, but it was a losing battle. There wasn't anyone like him. He seemed to know what she needed without her asking. Even when he seemed harsh with her, there was a gentle edge to his tone. Isabella could feel tension when she was within five feet of him. They were both frighteningly stubborn. And Callie was a cock-block. "Thanks for getting me out of there, by the way. I think I would have had a lot of explaining to do to Mac if Serena showed up to file a complaint against me, something she's notorious for doing. She'd call it harassment."

"You apologize and thank too much. Anyone ever tell you that?" he commented. She snorted.

"My mother taught me manners," she responded. "It's what us good Southern girls do."

"Good Southern girls don't nearly deck their aunts and swear like sailors when they get mad," he returned. She laughed once.

"Oh yes, they do. Where do you think I learned all my stuff? You're not _that _much of a bad influence on me," she informed him, draping her left knee over her right leg. They pulled to a stop at a stoplight and he stared at her incredulously. "What?"

"Just when I think I've got you all figured out, you go and do a complete one-eighty," he commented. She smirked at him and drummed her fingers on her knee.

"I keep you on your toes. My daddy jokes that he had a full head of dark hair when I was born and I'm responsible for all of his gray hairs," she replied.

"Your brother blames his on you, too," he told her. A snicker passed her lips and she shook her head. "Nice to know you're still as feisty as ever."

Isabella grinned. "Can't hold me down," she declared.


	5. Making Dates and Making Plans

_**A/N: Well, I have to say that this version Rules of Attraction is totally, utterly, and completely Annabella Colt's fault (I say this with love, doll ;D) so my muse decided it wanted to continue writing. It's not gonna be appeased until I have some fluff. By the way, a fluffy, smutty one-shot series goes to the tiny reference in the chapter to 'Blink,' the first episode. No cheating ;D you pick the prompt!**_

_**The beginning is a Jess/Levi chapter ;D For reference on Levi Pacino, look up Joe Manganiello. There was one I found of him in a black V-neck with very little scruff and it did naughty things to me x.x **_

_**By the way, I know I used this song in the last chapter, but it's so perfect for Isabella.**_

_**Rain: Psh, girl, you know it's okay. **_

_**Somebody: Stay what way 0.o**_

_**Annie: Hell, yes! I wish Isabella could have decked her aunt, too, but that would have been messy. There will be a ton of romantic drama ahead, so don't you worry ;D **_

* * *

_Yesterday I cried  
You must have been relieved to see the softer side  
I can understand how you'd be so confused  
I don't envy you  
I'm a little bit of everything all rolled into one_

_So take me as I am  
This may mean you'll have to be a stronger man  
Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous  
And I'm going to extremes tomorrow, I will change  
And today won't mean a thing_

_Just when you think, you got me figured out  
The season's already changing  
I think it's cool, you do what you do  
And don't try to save me_

___I'm a bitch, I'm a lover  
I'm a child, I'm a mother  
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint  
I do not feel ashamed  
I'm your hell, I'm your dream  
I'm nothing in between  
You know you wouldn't want it any other way_

_____I'm a bitch, I'm a tease_  
_I'm a goddess on my knees_  
_When you hurt, when you suffer_  
_I'm your angel undercover_  
_I've been numb, I'm revived_  
_Can't say I'm not alive_  
_You know I wouldn't want it any other way_

Meredith Brooks — Bitch

* * *

"You did not just say that. How can you believe that Paige is a better guitarist than Hendrix? I'm not saying Led Zeppelin doesn't rock, they're one of my favorite bands, but they called the band "The Jimi Hendrix Experience" for a reason, Angell," Levi implored.

"It just had too much of a riffy sound," Jess explained, holding her hands up. She couldn't put her finger on what it was about Armando Levi Pacino, but he made her feel good. He made her smile genuinely and he gave her the schoolgirl giggles. "We're all entitled to our opinions."

God, she couldn't stop staring at him. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a Harlequin romance novel with his rugged looks. He was incredibly tall and had good muscle definition, with a strong, scruffy jaw and rich brown eyes that never stopped sparkling.

"Woodstock. Jimi Hendrix did the Star-Spangled Banner on the electric guitar, complete with sound effects, and dissolved the end into Purple Haze. The man was a damn genius," Levi declared. "No one can even attempt to cover any of his songs because they would shame that flawless sound. It was riffy, edgy, and so fucking awesome. Jimmy Paige is talented, and so is Robert Plant, but they can't hold a candle to Jimi Hendrix. As my sister would say, 'May that talented son of a bitch rest in peace.'"

"They have two totally different guitar styles, though, so it's not really fair to compare," Jess pointed out. He grinned at her and leaned forward on his elbows, making her weak in the knees. How the hell did someone have such an effect on her?

_Because he's just purely that damn attractive, _she thought. It wasn't just his looks that enticed her. Levi was a genuinely good man. He loved his family, he enjoyed his job, and looked out for his friends. He was smart without being too overblown and he treated the women in his life with respect. Cliff would adore him.

This was what love felt like. This was how her mother had looked at her father, how Callie looked at Danny, and how Levi looked at her.

"Remind me to show you the Star-Spangled Banner video. It'll change your entire perspective on classic rock," Levi told her, taking a bite of his apple. It was odd how he and his sister ate apples. They didn't leave the core, they ate the entire thing.

"How's your dad doing?" Jess inquired, poking at her turkey burger. She wasn't a vegetarian by any means, but the red meat at the deli by the precinct looked suspicious. It gave even the strongest man indigestion. A very unattractive ailment, in her opinion.

Levi looked pained for a moment and sighed, shifting in his place. "He's awake now and he's pretty pissed at how the family's treating us. The only one who's been treating us with any respect is his little brother, Antonio. Serena bitch-slapped Bella and she went ballistic."

Jess craned her neck in surprise. Isabella was a small woman but her heritage contained two of the most temperamental races known to humanity. That spitfire temper of hers got her into more trouble than anyone could ever count. "Is Serena limping?"

Levi snorted. "No, Flack picked her up and almost carried her out before she could retaliate."

She laughed. "At least your dad's awake now. He's a really decent guy."

"Now he is. He used to be a real bastard. Marnie and Bella changed him," he admitted bitterly. She knew about the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his mother and stepfather.

"And now he's okay. We can be happy about that," she commented. Then Levi glanced down at his cellphone and his eyes widened.

"It's my mother."

* * *

Isabella walked into the penthouse to see a bouquet of purple and white violets wrapped in white paper on the end-table. She bent down to pick them up, spotting a card.

_Isabella,_

_If a fancy lawyer could ask you out with roses and a damn teddy bear, I figure I got a shot with something a little less corny. Dinner?_

_Flack_

She giggled and leaned in to smell the flowers. They smelled incredible. It was the last thing she expected and it was an incredibly thoughtful gesture.

"Who found them?" she called into the otherwise quiet apartment. Sebastian hopped on the end-table, his tail sticking straight up. He mewed and immediately began purring, rubbing his tiny body against her legs. "Hi, Sebastian. How's my kitty-kitty?" She stroked his bunny-soft fur, using her nails to scratch along his spine. His purring increased, butting his head against her hand.

From the sound of singing coming from a faint distance, Isabella knew it was Jess. Callie's voice was loud and off-key, but Jess had a good voice.

Isabella knew she had about five minutes to make the call before her friend exited the shower. While Jess wasn't nosy and didn't have a tendency to meddle like Callie did, she didn't like to explain her actions to anyone.

_"Flack." _

"The flowers were a nice gesture," she commented. "Though if you wanted to ask me out, you could have come right out and asked."

_"Cheesy and cliché didn't seem to hurt Jesse Hunter, so I figured it was worth a shot. Wasn't it you who said a lot of men could take a few pages out of his book?" _he said. She studied the violets and stroked the delicate petals gently.

"Why did you pick violets?" she inquired.

_"Well, I figured I was being clever, you know, the 'roses are red, violets are blue' thing. Tell anyone about it and you can bet your cute ass that I will deny it," _he responded.

"Don Flack a sappy romantic at heart? I don't think anyone would believe me," she teased. "So, when did you wanna do dinner?"

_"I get off early on Wednesday. Wanna try to make it then?" _he offered. Isabella trailed her finger over the white dry-erase board on the fridge that bore the women's work schedule. She worked until ten on Wednesday.

"I get off at ten on Wednesday. I get off at five on Thursday, though," she replied. Her heart beat faster in her chest as she heard a rustle of papers being moved.

_"Let's try that. I'm on secondary call that night. Barring no catastrophe, that is..." _he trailed off. She smiled and nodded, uncapping a black dry-erase pen from the board with her teeth and wrote down 'dinner' under 'Izzy' on Thursday. _"Eight work for you?"_

"Barring no catastrophe, eight sounds lovely," she quoted him, putting the cap back on the pen and hanging it up on the fridge again. She spotted Jess coming out of her bedroom dressed in a pink bathrobe with a white towel wrapped around her head. No makeup graced her pretty features and she looked incredibly relaxed. "Hey, I'll call you later."

_"Alright, see you," _he said and Isabella snapped her phone shut.

"Hi," she stated, setting the cellphone on the counter. Jess smiled simply in greeting and took a banana off the bunch, pulling the stem back to peel it. The two women stared at each other for a moment. "Look, thanks for getting the flowers for me earlier. If it'd been Callie..."

"Don't worry about it. You deserve to be happy. If Flack makes you happy, power to you both," she replied after swallowing her bite. Isabella beamed at her and inhaled the sweet perfume of the flowers. "So, Levi's mom called today..."

She froze, looking up at her best friend in shock. "What did she want?" Adriana Calidori mothered Levi, but she was a cold-hearted bitch that had abused him when he was younger. She was at the top of Isabella's 'bitch list.' By Jess's concerned look, Isabella knew it was bad. "She's coming, isn't she."

"I don't know," Jess admitted. "I think she just wanted money."

"He pays her off so she doesn't come to where he is. It's embarrassing to him that he's a cop that let himself get kicked around his whole life without sticking up for himself," Isabella explained. "She knows better than to come where she knows I am. The last time she came anywhere near Levi, I decked her and knocked that bitch down." Anger filled her at the memory and she set down the flowers, shaking her head in disbelief. She remembered knocking down the five-foot eleven woman. "I was lucky. My parents loved without hurting me. He was a completely different person when he came to live with us."

"I just hate feeling so helpless. He's trying to reach out, but I don't know what to do, what to say," Jess confessed.

"Tell him that. Tell him you won't always know what to say, but that you'll be there to listen, because that's what he's gonna need," Isabella instructed. "I'll try to convince him to get a restraining order against her. That way, we can arrest her if she tries to violate it. I'd love to go a few rounds with her again."

She saw the emotions glimmering in her friend's eyes. Jess and Levi loved each other deeply, anyone with eyes could see it. Isabella could see it in the little things, like the way he brushed her hair out of her face, the way he lit up when she came into the room or when they engaged in deep conversation, like they were the only people in the world.

"You hear about it in homicide cases, but you never think about it happening to one of your own," Jess commented quietly.

* * *

Don looked up from his paperwork when he heard someone sit down across from him. Levi's large hands were buried in his short dark hair and he let out a deep exhale. He'd never seen his partner look so troubled in the time he'd known him.

"Something wrong?" Don commented. Levi shook his head, his broad shoulders tense. Finally, he admitted it with a nod.

"My mother called me earlier when I was out with Jess. She's coming to town because Serena called her," he said.

That was bad news. Don knew about Levi's abuse by his own admission.

"Pair up Adriana Calidori with Serena Pacino and I'd say your aunt's itching for a fight," he remarked. Levi snorted.

"Dad won't put up with her. Hell, even Nonno's on his way from Tuscany to come and visit. Serena's just bitter because Nonno likes Isabella better than Carmen because my sister's independent. Nonno was gonna let Isabella live there free and clear, but she insisted on paying rent. Carmen just bums off the family and Nonno doesn't like it," he replied. "I'm not worried about my dad's stress level, I'm worried about my mother's safety. Bella finds out Adriana's in town, she won't let me out of her sight. Adriana won't go near me if Isabella's anywhere close because she's scared of her. The last time I saw her, she went to the farm to get money. Now, she was smart. She waited until Mom and Dad were gone for a little while and she stopped by and got in Bella's face. Bella warned her to leave because she didn't want her there. God, she must have been about seventeen at the time. Adriana got in Bella's face and Bella pulled back her fist and hooked her straight in the mouth. Down goes Frazier."

Don couldn't hold back his laughter at the mental image. Little Isabella squaring off against an opponent much taller than she and punching them in the mouth.

"Bella packs one hell of a punch. That girl may be five-foot two, but she took down my five-foot eleven mother easily. She looks down at her and told her to leave and never come back. Let's just say Adriana Calidori crawled away and Isabella's been public enemy number one ever since," Levi said, his dark eyes glinting.

Don burst into laughter, snickering. "Your sister's gonna get herself into some hot water if she doesn't hold onto that temper of hers," he commented. While they were talking about her, he wondered if he could get away with admitting that he'd asked her out.

"She's gonna get knocked on her ass someday and she'll learn quick from it. Unfortunately, she's the daughter of the two most stubborn people I know. Neither of them learn the easy way," Levi replied with a sigh.

_Do it now, you coward. Just do it. Say 'hey, man, I'm going out with your sister tomorrow night', _Don thought.

"But listen, I gotta go drop this off to Sythe, so I'll see you later on," Levi told him, clapping him on the shoulder. "Thanks for listening."

"Yeah, no problem," Don assured him.

_Dammit, _he thought.

* * *

"Okay, so I'm officially going nuts here, Callie," Isabella declared on her best friend's bed. She was on her back with her bare feet on the wall, her black-painted toes wiggling on the soft green walls and she stared at the tattoo scrawled in flowing italics on the inside of her right foot that flowed to her heel while stroking Jazzy's long white fur. 'Sing like no one's listening.' "I wanna go see Nonno, but he won't get here for another few hours. The penthouse is already scrubbed clean and there isn't a speck of dust anywhere. Mac let me off early tonight and I don't have di-" she cut herself off before Callie paid too much attention to what she said. "I don't have anything to do."

"Go watch TV. De-shed your cat. Take Jazzy for a walk because I don't feel like it," Callie suggested as she swept a coat of mascara in the mirror of her vanity. "Hell, go see your dad or go get your bitch on to your aunt."

"I did that stuff already. And I organized my entire office and I organized the fridge and pretty much everything else. This place has never been cleaner. Seriously. I think I put Rosalita to shame," Isabella whined.

"You can organize my room and do my laundry if you want," Callie offered. "That's something for you to do."

Isabella looked at her dryly, rolling her eyes. "You're so kind," she said sarcastically. Callie had her dark hair done up in rollers as she fiddled with the tube of her lipstick. "I wanna do your hair. Seriously, if you're in that big of a rush, it'll give me something to do."

"I wanted shine spray put in it along with some hairspray and be careful with each curl when you brush it. Use the bristle brush," Callie instructed. Isabella pulled herself up to a sitting position and hopped down from the large bed. She sprayed each lock carefully after unrolling it and picked up the bristle brush, drawing it gently through each curl. "You're really good at this. I think if you stop being a cop, you could have a career as a beautician."

"Yeah, graduate high school at fifteen and become a CSI at twenty-three only to become a hairdresser," Isabella snorted. The door cracked and she looked over to see Danny standing in the doorway. "Hey. She's not ready yet, beat it."

"Hey, that's not nice, short-stack," Danny informed her.

"Neither am I," she returned, slipping a crystal-studded comb into Callie's hair. "Get out so she can get dressed."

"I've seen her naked before," he reminded her. Isabella stood up and walked to shut the door. "Anyone tell you you're a real challenge sometimes?"

"Ain't news to me, honey. Now sit down and wait a few minutes," she instructed.

"Does Flack think your bossiness is hot? 'Cause I don't," he grumbled, his voice muffled by the door. She rolled her eyes.

"Of course, Danny, because I _live _to please you," she muttered. Callie watched her with amusement.

"Or you could be a bodyguard. Didn't you deck Levi's mama because she got too close?" she commented. Isabella punched her outstretched hand playfully, cracking her knuckles. Callie winced, wrinkling her nose. Her blue eyes glimmered with mirth. "Seriously, you should at least consider showing up tonight. My brother would love to see you."

"Would love to sleep with me, you mean," Isabella snorted. She studied her best friend for a moment. Should she tell Callie about her date with Flack on Thursday?

"Paris, Parry," Callie said with a wave of her hand. She stepped into the cocktail dress and zipped it up, examining herself in the reflection. It was nude and black with a faded hounds-tooth print scattered on the dress, fitting loosely to her lithe body. The hemline brushed just above her knees, her black heels making her legs even longer. "How do I look?"

Isabella spun her around, examining her friend. "You look beautiful, but I think those heels are a bit too tall. You're already taller than Danny and he's gonna look like a shorty compared to you," she commented. She dug around to find a pair of red silk ballet flats. PRADA was stitched inside and she pulled them out, holding them out to her. "There you go, a pop of color to your neutral dress. Stacy London and Clinton Kelly would be proud."

"You're a damn lifesaver, Izzy," Callie told her, accepting the shoes. "I'll be damned if Devon looks better than I do at my brother's birthday party."

"Knock 'em dad, Callie," Isabella said with a smile. She walked out of the bedroom and stuck her earphones in her ears, flicking through the songs on her iPod before settling on one. She flopped onto the couch, her gaze drifting over to the TV turned to sports. "Basketball, huh? Who's winning?"

"Sixers. They've been kicking the Knicks' asses since the beginning," Danny responded, scratching his beard. He looked at her raggedy jeans and her purple tank top. "You going dressed like that?"

"Not going at all. My grandparents are coming into town because my dad got shot," she said. "Along with all of my half-brothers that my dad had. All six of them."

Danny winced. "I don't envy whoever you end up with. Don't get me wrong, you're a great woman, but not great enough to put up with your family," he commented.

"Good thing you're not attracted to me, right?" Isabella countered.


	6. Dressing Up and Lookin' Pretty

**_A/N: Now I've got so many ideas for this story x.x This is a seriously drama-free chapter and the lack of drama will continue for a couple of chapters at least. _**

**_By the way, the missed reference in the last chapter was "Down Goes Frazier." If you remember, Danny said it to Mac about the fry-sticks ;D _**

**_"A few puffs and down goes Frazier."_**

**_Somebody: I know lol she'll always be feisty 'cause that's who she is! And I love Don being Mr. Secret Romantic, it's really sweet_**

**_Rain: I love them, too, and Jimi Hendrix is amazing. May that talented son of a bitch rest in peace! _**

**_Annie: As well you should ;D This is a drama-free chapter, of course, and the next one should be fluffy, too! And thank you for such a sweet review ;D_**

* * *

_It's your lucky night  
'Cause I'm in the mood  
I'm feeling spicy  
I'm feeling real naughty_

_Tonight I'm gonna come alive  
Make you forget about your nine to five  
Are you ready for your blood to rise?  
Tonight's the night  
I'm dressing up for you_

Katy Perry — Dressing Up

* * *

Isabella knew she needed to play this out carefully. With her grandparents in town, she needed stealth. It was just the first date with Flack. If it went well, she would let it slip, but only if it went well and it looked like there was another in the future. She didn't see a need to get everyone worked up over what could be nothing.

Isabella towel-dried her newly smooth legs and reached for her lotion. Bath and Body Works was a lifesaver, as far as date nights went. The berry-flower-vanilla mixture of Dark Kiss smelled seductive with a hint of come-hither. It was the perfect date night fragrance; sensual and dark without being overwhelming. She wrapped her thick white towel around her hair and walked from the bathroom into her bedroom, staring at her closet dressed in a black lace bra and matching panties. It was time to go through every single dress she owned to see if any would work. Too bad Callie decided to wear the red dress Isabella borrowed for the date with Jesse Hunter.

Isabella dressed conservatively when she went to work or out with friends. Tonight she wanted to show off her inner sex kitten. She wanted Don Flack's mouth to go dry when he looked at her. Nothing in her closet was even remotely close to sexy or dynamic.

She heard a soft knock on her door and she pulled a white plush bathrobe on, tying it securely. "Come in!" she called. The door opened, her grandmother stepping into the room. Her dark hair tumbled down her shoulders, streaked with gray, and she always dressed like she was getting ready for a night out on the town. The wine-colored silk blouse with her black high-waist trousers she wore wasn't any different. "Hey, Mirabella."

"Hello," she greeted simply. Her dark brown eyes took in Isabella's lack of attire and the clothes on the bed. "Are you headed out tonight?"

"I will as soon as I get ready. My date's gonna be here in an hour and I don't have anything to wear," Isabella lamented, sitting on her chair. Mirabella nodded and pursed her lips.

"What's he like?" she inquired. "Like what Americans call 'dorky' or is he tall, dark, and handsome?"

Isabella let out a laugh. "Definitely the latter. I want to make his mouth go completely dry when he sees me. I want to look and feel completely sexy, but not slutty."

The older woman had a track record in marriage: married twice before and married her grandfather fifteen years ago. Mirabella Rossi-Pacino knew a thing or two about sultry.

"What's he look like?" Mirabella inquired. Isabella held up her finger and tiptoed out of her room to look for the picture she had with him, Danny, Callie, and Jess. She pointed to Flack on the photo. Her large eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Wow, he's a real looker, isn't he?"

"And he's gotten around a bit. And I'm, well, me. You see my dilemma now?" she said. Mirabella's turn to hold up a finger.

"You're a stunningly beautiful woman, Isabella. With a man like that, your expectations are right on target. When I'm done with you, he'll be begging for a night-in," she assured her. Isabella felt the tips of her ears go bright red. "And it's about attitude. Believe you're sexy and the rest will come naturally. And if you're asking if I have a dress, I do."

* * *

Don had been in Isabella's place before, but it felt awkward with her grandparents there. He sat down on the plush couch and stared at the blank TV. He heard a soft thud and looked up to see Sebastian hopped on the table. The kitten blinked at him with soft green eyes and let out a mew to announce his arrival.

"Oh no, you're not gonna come anywhere near me, you mangy little bastard," Don informed the feline. Sebastian seemed to take it as an invitation because the thing began to purr and creep towards him, his tail twitching.

"Be nice to the little angel," an older woman chided, scooping up the kitten and cuddled him close to her ample chest. She had her dark hair streak with gray pulled back in an elegant pony-tail, dressed up nicely.

"Well, I'm not exactly a cat person. Actually, I'm allergic to cats," Don said. The woman sized him up before nodding curtly.

"Then allow me to remove the irritant," she suggested, taking the purring bundle out of the room. "Isabella, your date has arrived."

"Just a minute," came the soft reply. He heard the sharp click of high heels on the hardwood and he looked over by her room.

Oh. _Shit._

It was the first time he'd seen her in a nice dress and the very first time he'd seen her in high heels. The V-neckline of the dress plunged down to show a generous expanse of cleavage without being too revealing. The rich amethyst color was very flattering with her pale skin, the hem-line hit mid-thigh, showing off her long, toned legs. It fit snugly to the curvy, womanly body he had no idea existed under her clothes. The three-quarter sleeves split open to show her slender shoulders, the embellished belt pulling in her trim waist. Her gun-metal gray peep-toe stilettos sparkled under the light, cleverly covering up the tattoo on her right foot.

For the first time since, well, _ever, _Don Flack found himself floored sight in front of him. Her raven hair fell down her back in curls, ending halfway to her waist and her blue eyes had smoky purple eyeshadow, lined with black eyeliner. He'd never noticed how long her eyelashes were or how full her lips were. If her grandmother wasn't in the room, he would have kissed her then and suggested they stay in.

"Well, who would have thought you'd clean up so nice?" he commented. She took in his dark blue dress shirt and black pants.

"Same to you," she responded. When she stepped closer, he was hit with a smoky fragrance.

Was she _trying _to kill him?

Her small hand slipped into his and he nearly kissed her on the spot. How the hell was he going to make it through dinner, plus a dance or two if he was this tortured over her standing so close?

If Don was honest, he hadn't been expecting her to wear something like this. This was the woman who got him all hot and bothered in fucking _sweatpants _and a pony-tail with no makeup on.

"Ready?" she said.

_No, _he thought.

* * *

Puttanesca's in Midtown West was an upscale restaurant with high-end fixtures. A chandelier hung over the room, the lighting turned down low to heighten a romantic mood. Waiters and waitresses in suits bustled about, carrying trays and pushing carts past. It reminded Isabella of when she went to visit her grandparents in Italy. While they lived in Tuscany, she'd visited Venice and the food had been delicious. Garlic and spicy foods made her mouth water just thinking about it.

"Wow," was all she could say.

"Yeah, I thought you might say that," Flack commented smugly. She gave him a playful glare and nudged him.

"Welcome to Puttanesca's, home of New York's authentic Venetian cuisine atmosphere," a host said in a thick French accent, making Isabella arch her eyebrow.

"Parli Italiano?" she inquired pleasantly. When he stared at her as if she was crazy, she smiled sweetly at him. "Non importa."

[Do you speak Italian? and Never mind]

"Reservation for two under the name 'Flack' spelled F-L-A-C-K at eight-thirty," Flack said. The host gestured them to follow and Isabella fought a giggle.

"So much for an _authentic _Venetian atmosphere," she muttered under her breath. Flack snorted from across the tiny table. "Oh, come on, he's French and he works at a reportedly authentic Italian restaurant. If I'm going to enjoy my evening, I need to test the authenticity of the atmosphere."

"If you're gonna enjoy your evening, baby, it's gonna have nothing to do with the atmosphere," he told her. He opened the menu and his eyes widened. "I can't speak a lick of Italian."

Isabella opened her own menu, scanning the contents. "Insalate is salads, antipasti is an appetizer, primi is first course, secondi is second, and contouri is contours or side dishes," she said. She glanced up to see him watching her with amusement. "What?"

"I seriously had no clue you knew that much Italian," he remarked. She smiled at him and returned her attention to the menu.

"Well, I grew up listening to my mother speak Irish and my father speak Italian. Let's just say I was in for one hell of a loop when I went to kindergarten and everyone spoke English," she replied. Speaking Italian was familiar to her. "Latin, Spanish, French...those came pretty easily later, but Spanish, Italian, and Latin are frustrating because they're so similar."

"My grandparents spoke Irish and my mother's Italian, but she only spoke it when she was pissed off at my old man. With the frequency of it, I should be fluent," he said. Then he squinted. "What in the hell is calamari in Italian?"

"Squid," she responded. She giggled at his expression. "How can you live in the most culturally diverse city in America and work one of the most hands-on jobs without knowing more than one language?"

"Because I only have a high school diploma and I grew up in Queens, the most white-bread borough of them all," he answered. "I didn't get international exposure like you and Callie."

"Or Jess. She speaks better French than English," Isabella commented. Flack snorted. She turned her attention back to the menu, giggling at his stare. "Sorry I keep laughing, but it's so funny to watch your expressions."

God, he looked so damn hot. The blue in his shirt brought out his eyes, his dark hair was messy and unkempt, just a bit of scruff on his jaw. The cologne he wore was about to make her go from good little country girl to wild child sex goddess.

_It should seriously be illegal to be that damn attractive, _she couldn't help but think.

"What does Puttanesca even mean?" he mused. She giggled when she ran the word through her mind.

"Whore," she replied. He looked up at her in surprise. "Seriously. It means 'whore' in Italian."

"That's a really terrible name for a restaurant," he commented.

"It's also a style of cooking, so I don't think we need to call Vice to come investigate," she assured him. "Not sure where it comes from, though."

* * *

Isabella felt very full from dinner and the night air felt good to her skin. She'd picked the ravioli with chicken and pink vodka sauce with a white wine. Usually she didn't drink on a first date, but this was Flack.

"So, I had a great time tonight, even though I feel like an ass with a superiority complex," she commented. He grinned that boyish smile down at her and her heart beat faster in her chest.

"Hey, it could have gone worse. Your family could have stalked us, we could have run into Devon," he said. She giggled as they walked down the street.

"Very true," she agreed. They approached her apartment building and she sighed. The end to an almost picture-perfect night. "Well, here we are. See you at work tomorrow?"

He backed her against the wall of the building and tilted her chin up, lowering his mouth to hers in a gentle, chaste kiss. He tasted like garlic and meat sauce and utterly amazing. She kissed him back, her hand resting on his neck for a moment.

"I think I'll take that as a yes," she murmured when they broke apart.

"You free any time soon?" he asked, his voice that perfect silk/velvet mixture. His breath touched her face, effectively erasing any tangible thought. Hell, with his face that close, it was hard for her to even breathe, let alone think.

"I'd have to check my schedule, but I'll see if I can pencil you in," she teased breathlessly. Then she sighed and looked down at her shoes. "Look, if this turns into anything, I don't want to tell anyone. At least, not yet."

Flack smirked at her, his hand resting on the curve of her waist. Isabella shivered when his thumb caressed the line of her rib-cage.

"You worried my brother might get jealous?" he joked. She snorted. "I was a little worried that my baby brother might try to get the girl from me. Chicks flip out over him, too, you know."

"It's the dimples," she replied boldly. He rolled his eyes and she giggled at the expression. "No, seriously though. I like you. A lot. I would not be standing here in a dress and high heels in forty-five degree weather if I didn't."

He took in her dress and shoes again and laughed. "Yeah, I figured you wouldn't wear a dress like that for just anyone," he commented. "I sense a but, however."

"If we do this, it's a bubble," she said, sliding her hands down his chest. "We might not be going anywhere, or we could go far. We won't know until we take the time to figure it all out." His eyes searched her face and she leaned up on her toes to kiss him. "But I do want you to kiss me like that, because like I said earlier, I like you a lot."

He kissed her again, his large hand cradling her face. "I'd better go before we wind up sucking face on the sidewalk and we lose any chance of keeping this between us," he said. She smiled as his thumb caressed the curve of her jaw. "You did look beautiful tonight."

"And you looked handsome," she responded. He chuckled and kissed her forehead chastely. "See you later?"

"Have a good night, short-stack," he told her.


	7. Not So Happy Halloween

**_A/N: I hope you guys on the East Coast are doing okay. By the way, the song Izzy sings in this chapter is 'Save A Horse, Ride a Cowboy' by Big & Rich_**

**_Somebody: Will this do?_**

**_Annie: Well, I hope this one is a chapter you like, too! Your reviews are always so sweet ^-^ They make this little country girl smile!_**

**_Rain: I base Mirabella like my late grandmother. She was the type to do stuff like that but she's also a mix of Angela from R&I. Glad you liked the chapter, too! xD_**

* * *

_Gotta treat me like a lady  
Get the door and hold my hand  
Gotta tell me that I'm pretty  
If you wanna be my cowboy_

_I ain't got time for players  
Ain't no one ride rodeo  
Ain't got room for no heart-breakers  
Giddy up, giddy up, go!_

__Jessie James — My Cowboy

* * *

"Oh, the Carolina Hurricanes have only been around since '97. What team were they before they were the 'Canes?" Flack asked Isabella. It was a fun game that had sparked between the two of them and they'd gotten into a heated argument over football. Hockey was a much safer topic.

"Hartford Whalers," she responded. "I remember when they relocated to Carolina because it pissed off my boss."

"Who were the Original Six?" he fired off.

"New York Rangers, Montreal Canadians, Chicago Black Hawks, Toronto Maple Leafs, Detroit Red Wings, Boston Bruins," she replied without missing a beat.

"You get extra points for saying the Rangers first and Bruins last," he told her. She grinned at him, biting off a piece of a beef jerky. "How many were there before the Great Depression?"

"Ten. Pittsburgh Pirates, Montreal Maroons, Ottawa Senators, and the New York Americans. The Americans hung on till World War Two, then had to close when some of the players were drafted," she answered.

He stared at her, stunned. "That's seriously the hottest thing I have ever heard anyone say," he declared. She offered him a piece of beef jerky and he accepted it.

"I told you, my favorite teacher in high school was a major hockey fan. Ironically, he was also my history teacher," she explained. They sat in the car outside the Blackout Haunted House at the Vortex Theater on West 39th Street.

"You scared of the things that go bump in the night, Izzy?" he commented. She glared at him playfully. "Don't worry, they give you a safety word."

"Ha ha, Flack," she said dryly. "I don't scare easily, you know, but they need warning: any part of anyone touches me, they don't get it back."

"You're a big baby when you're scared, honey. I touched your hair during_ Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ and you bruised my shoulder. This might be a crime scene where you might toss your cookies, however. Blackout Haunted House is the scariest Halloween attraction of New York City," he said. Isabella rolled her eyes and carried her crime scene kit towards the steps of the large mansion.

"Oh please, the USS North Carolina back home has haunted tours. It's been proven by _Ghost Hunters _and _Paranormal State _as haunted. Wilmington, NC is one of the most haunted cities in the US. I'm actually very tough when it comes to crime scenes like this," she informed him. Her skin crawled when she walked inside. A young woman dressed as a nun glared at the two detectives with beady eyes. Uniforms swarmed the lobby and she took it in. Partially illuminated by a light, there was a desk sitting by a doorway. "But I fucking swear, if any clowns come out, I'm liable to shoot it."

She felt someone grab her waist and she screamed. The next thing she knew, Officer Newman was on the ground, holding his mouth and her knuckles hurt. Flack cracked up next to her and Newman glared up at her balefully, his ice-blue eyes narrowed.

"You decked me, you fucking bitch!" he accused. Isabella's eyes widened and she helped him up.

"You grabbed me, you fucking bastard," she returned. Newman removed his hand to show a bleeding lip and she couldn't stifle her giggles. "Just feel lucky I didn't shoot you!"

"She totally brought you down, man. She's what, five-foot nothing and you're like six-foot!" Officer Lily snorted between his laughs. "The body's in there."

He pointed to a room and Isabella rolled her eyes again, walking through a door. The glow of a TV illuminated the room and a girl lay on the floor, her throat slashed and a blood beginning to pool under her, staining her white nightgown. She couldn't be more than eighteen, if she was even that old. Her blonde hair was matted with clots of blood, her sightless blue eyes staring at the wall.

The words 'FUCKING WHORE' were written in what appeared to be blood on a dirty white wall. She jumped when she heard someone come up behind her. Sid.

"Well, she wasn't very well liked, now was she?" he commented. Isabella smiled faintly and set down her kit, opening the silver clasps and pulling out her camera. "Do you believe in the paranormal, Isabella?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I do, yes. Even though I'm a scientist and believing in such things should be silly, I do believe in ghosts. You?"

He nodded his agreement. "Somethings cannot be explained by science, young one. I've always had a fascination for the things that cannot be explained," he commented.

"You can't be explained, Sid. You and the unexplained go together like two nuts in a shell," she teased, lifting her camera to snap photos of the room. He chuckled behind her and she grinned at him over her shoulder. "So, Doc, what's the verdict?"

"Well, our victim died from a near beheading. Whatever killed our Jane Doe severed both carotid arteries. She bled out within minutes," he told her. "Liver temperature estimates her time of death about seven hours ago."

"Alright, I'll see if I can get the surveillance for that night," she replied. She looked over her shoulder and saw Flack standing in the doorway. "Hey, I was just about to go get you."

"The surveillance for this place has been completely vandalized. Any sort of audio or video evidence got destroyed," he reported. She tilted her head back and sighed. "Go ahead and say it, you know you may as well get it over with."

"Damn it all to hell," she grumbled. "Okay, see if we can get the surveillance from before it was vandalized. I'll have Adam look it over." He nodded and disappeared from the doorway.

"Think you can have Don come help me move this body?" Sid requested. Isabella nodded and poked her head out the door. "You're also going to want to take pictures of these defensive wounds."

"Hey, Flack, can we get your help with something?" she called. Within a minute, his head poked back in. "Sid needs your help with moving our vic."

Her back was turned as she crouched down, taking pictures of the room around her. It was difficult to keep the numbers straight as she moved around on the cold concrete floor. It creaked under her weight and she let out a yelp when her back connected with someone solid. She looked up to see Flack gripping her waist carefully. Her heart hammered in her chest as he gently moved her out of the way.

"Sorry, you scared me," she said with a breathy laugh. The icy grip of fear began to subside and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. "Get a hold of yourself," she muttered under her breath. She took photos of the void blood pool, using a cotton swab to take a sample of the blood.

She had a long case ahead of her.

Isabella leaned against the light table in the lab, her dark hair slipping off her shoulders as she tilted her head back.

"Hey, heard you got a haunted house case of your own," Danny remarked. His cornflower blue eyes appraised her and she gave him a playful glare. He looked at her red, swollen knuckles. "Who'd you deck?"

"Officer Newman. I did a little tour of the haunted house and nearly punched a few more actors. That place is so fucking scary, they give you a safe word in order to get out," she answered.

"Hey, way to go, Rocky Balboa," he teased. She drew her lips up in a partial smile as she turned her attention back to the computer running DNA. Nothing.

"Two haunted house cases and a zombie case. Can you say 'Happy Halloween'?" she quipped. He grinned at her and she tapped a few keys on the keyboard, trying to expand the search for Missing Persons.

"Yeah, good one. What do you have for a victim?" he inquired, looking at the open folder.

"Eighteen year old Jane Doe. Died from exsanguination due to both carotid arteries being severed by a small, sharp weapon. Nearly beheaded. Found rope burns below her breasts, around her arms, and around her ankles, meaning she was bound to something," she answered.

"Got a hit on Missing Persons on our Jane Doe!" Flack announced as he walked into the lab. He slapped down the photo. "Her name is Victoria Foster. She's seventeen and has been missing for three days from Glendale, Queens. Her parents just came into the precinct to file a missing persons report."

Isabella examined the photo provided by the parents and the autopsy photo. Same brown eyes, wavy chestnut hair...

"Don't tell me you told them she was dead," she stated. He arched his eyebrow and shook his head.

"Who do you think I am? I left that noise to you," he replied with a snort. She rolled her eyes and uncapped a pen with her teeth, jotting down 'Victoria Foster' and her age on the sheet. "Nice penmanship."

"Thanks," she commented, tossing the pen back in the cup. "Let me go put away the evidence and I'll go to the precinct to go interrogate Victoria Foster's parents."

"See you there," he told her over his shoulder.

* * *

Isabella kept trying to tell herself she wasn't the kind of girl who got involved with someone she worked with, but it was so damn hard. Her mind demanded to know just what she thought she was doing. If she wanted to shake things up in her life, she could flip her strict aunt the bird and get a tongue piercing if she damn well wanted.

Compared to some of the crazier things she'd done when she was younger, like getting tattooed or pierced, dating a co-worker seemed pretty tame.

_You made that damn promise to yourself that you would never date a co-worker again. Ever since Chase Matthews broke your heart, _her mind berated.

But the quieter part of her mind told her loudmouth part to stop being so cynical. Flack was a nice guy, it had just been one date. Nothing major. He didn't have a hidden agenda. The other night was about getting to know each other outside of the workplace. A night that ended with a really, really good kiss that left her in a good mood, much to the shock and horror of her roommates.

She put in her ear-buds as she moved through her kitchen. Her grandparents were gone, her roommates were out with their respective significant others and she could sing country music as loud as she wanted. She moved through her playlist of songs on her iPod until she found one she liked. Isabella started pulling things out for a dinner as she swayed along to the beat.

_Well, I walk into the room passing out hundred dollar bills  
And it kills and thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill  
And I buy the bar a double round of Crown and everybody's getting down  
And this town ain't never gonna be the same_

_'Cause I saddle up my horse and I ride into the city  
I make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty  
Ridin' up and down Broadway on my old stud, Leroy  
And the girls say 'save a horse, ride a cowboy!'  
Everybody says 'save a horse, ride a cowboy!'_

_Well, I don't give a dang about nothing  
I'm just singing and bling-blinging  
While the girls are drinking long necks down  
And I wouldn't trade old Leroy or my Chevrolet  
For your Escalade or your freak parade  
I'm the only John Wayne left in this town!_

Damn, she loved that song. Isabella swayed her hips along to the beat, belting the lyrics at the top of her lungs. Sebastian sat on the counter, staring at her like she was mental.

_I'm a thoroughbred, that's what she said i__n the back of my truck bed  
__As I was gettin' buzzed on suds out on some back country road  
__We were flying high, fine as wine, havin' ourselves a big and rich time  
__And I was going just about as far as she'd let me go  
__But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation had me begging for salvation all night long  
__So I took her out gigging frogs, introduced her to my old bird dog  
__And sang her every Willie Nelson song I could think of and we made love!_

_And I saddle up my horse and I ride into the city  
I make a lot of noise, 'cause the girls they are so pretty  
Ridin' up and down Broadway on my old stud Leroy  
And the girls say 'save a horse, ride a cowboy!'  
Everybody says 'save a horse, ride a cowboy!'  
Boy, boy, save a horse ride a cowboy!  
Everybody says 'save a horse, ride a cowboy!'_

"I may not be a cowboy, but you can ride me as hard as you want as long as you're wearing that," a deep voice commented by her. Isabella whirled around, clutching her black plastic pasta spoon to see Flack standing behind her. Her hand flew to her chest, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. "Callie told me to come up and get something for her. Gave me a key," he explained, holding up a set of keys with a fluffy rabbit's foot attached to it. Callie's. "Told me to tell you if I saw you that she's not gonna be back tonight."

She shook her head and giggled, self-consciously staring down at the red sleep-shirt she wore. "At least you don't have to worry about me killing you. Unless I figure out a way to kill someone with a pasta spoon."

"Put the weapon down, Iz," he joked. Isabella set it on the spoon-rest, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, don't go telling anyone that you saw that...I'm really kinda embarrassed," she requested. Flack tugged her against his body, coaxing her chin up for a kiss.

"And what exactly do I get in return for my silence?" he asked. Her hands roved across his chest, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. She was still a little shy about kissing him, but it was slowly fading.

"The undying gratitude of a spunky little farm girl?" she tried. He chuckled, brushing her bangs out of her face and she tried a light smile. "Or just because I'm so damn adorable and I get embarrassed easy?"

"I guess I should chalk it up as a win that you didn't sock me for sneaking up on you like that. Tell ya what, beautiful, you didn't punch me, so I'll keep your little karaoke session to myself, alright?" he said, then craned his neck towards the pot of boiling water. "What 'cha making?"

She rolled her eyes, playfully swatting his chest. "You're such a man," she told him, picking up the spoon to stir the ravioli. "I'm making my grandmother's ravioli." Isabella glanced up to see him staring hungrily at the food. "How much of a hurry are you in? I gotta drain that and stir the sauce a bit before it's ready."

"You know sports, you look damn hot in a shirt like that, and you can cook. That's extremely dangerous, Scout," he told her.

"Oh, so you're not attracted to me for my bubbly personality and homegrown charm?" she countered. He laughed and she dipped a plastic spoon in the sauce. "Try that."

Flack obeyed, twisting his mouth. "A little more pepper and some oregano," he told her. Isabella opened the dark oak cabinets to reach for the spices needed, stretching on her toes to see if she could see it. Finally spotting it, she stood flatfoot again and opened the lids.

"Now that my seasoning is under control, I think I'll be right back," she said, walking quickly out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. When she glanced at the mirror hanging on her wall, her face matched the shade of red of her shirt. She yanked her black jeans up over her ass and hips, buttoning them quickly. "Sorry about that, that was really embarrassing."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Let's eat," he suggested.


	8. Starting Something

_**A/N: For reference on Detective Kaylee Ward, I have Britney Spears. Don't worry, I'll elaborate on Ward's appearance via flashbacks.**_

_**Anna: Because I'm saving up fluff c: Glad you still liked it, though lol**_

_**Somebody: Yes lol**_

* * *

_Kick on the starter, give it all you got  
You got, you got, you got  
I can't compete with the riders in the other heats  
If you rough it up, if you like it, you can slide it up, slide it up  
Don't make a grown man cry  
My eyes dilate, my lips go green  
My hands are greasy, she's a mean, mean machine_

The Rolling Stones — Start Me Up

* * *

Levi downed the rest of his beer at Reilly's and slammed the beer bottle down on the bar. The brown bottle cracked a bit on the bottom and his teeth gritted. His mother was in the city and who knew where she would end up. Hopefully not a cop bar.

He needed his friends surrounding him if Adriana chose to show up at Reilly's. Levi hadn't seen his mother in a long time, which was enough for him. Adriana was vindictive enough to go after Jess if Levi didn't give her what she wanted. Though she was an older woman, she found a little twenty-eight year old woman who stood eight inches smaller than her utterly terrifying.

Isabella was Levi's go-to when things went wrong between him and his mother. She always seemed to knock Adriana down a couple pegs.

He could use his feisty, slightly bipolar spitfire about now. He was a thirty-something year old man in desperate need of his little (both in age and in height) sister. Levi snorted at the irony and tossed back the shot he'd ordered.

A soft, breathy voice came from behind him. "Are you okay?"

Levi looked over to see the new detective his lieutenant hired to replace Dean. He didn't remember her name, but everyone called her 'Missy' because she hailed from Mississippi. Her hazel-brown eyes looked innocent enough and he could see she was genuinely concerned about his well-being.

"Huh, you don't got time to listen to my problems, Missy," he said bitterly. The blonde's gaze was unwavering.

"Do you even _know _my real name, Detective Pacino?" she asked, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow. Levi shook his head. "I'm Detective Ward."

Oh. Ward was Jess's new partner.

He chuckled. "Yeah, you gotta be careful with Angell. She definitely doesn't take shit," he commented. Ward smiled faintly and leaned against the bar.

"I noticed that. We were at a scene where we had to deal with a perp and she totally took control of the guy," she said.

"Guess you didn't meet the other Detective Pacino," he remarked.

"Your wife?" Then Levi watched her look a little too interested at the prospect. Ward's gaze dropped to his left hand to check for a wedding band. Annoyance flickered in his belly, but he shoved it away. His love life wasn't any of the new girl's business; he was one of her supervisors.

"My sister. She works at the lab, but Flack mostly works with them. The reason why I brought her up is because Mac assigned her to work that case with you," he explained.

She pursed her lips but said nothing. She didn't need to. Levi could tell by the look in her eyes that Isabella clashed with her. His sister was aggressive and belligerent at times and didn't care who she stepped on while on the job as long as it got done. Ward didn't stand a chance.

The door to Reilly's opened and Levi looked up to see Jess walking in. He watched her move through the bar, dark eyes scanning the establishment for him.

He missed her. Things between them had become strained with Adriana's arrival to the city and he hated it.

"Detective Angell," he addressed her when she approached them. Jess nodded in acknowledgement toward him. Protocol stated that two detectives in the same department couldn't pursue a romantic relationship. Even having his partner and co-supervisor knowing about it was risky. He knew his sister would keep her mouth shut about it, as would Callie Smythe.

"Detective Pacino," she said. Then she took in Ward, pulling herself to her full height. "Detective Ward, nice to see you here."

"You as well," the blonde replied quietly.

Jess didn't like her new partner, Levi realized with a start. Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, and her shoulders went back in what was a dominating manner. "How's your father doing, Detective Pacino?" she asked coolly.

Manny was a tough old bastard. After the shooting, he pushed himself to his limits in physical therapy.

"Hanging in there like that tough old son of a bitch does," he replied.

* * *

Isabella delivered one hard punch to the large black back hanging from the rafters in the precinct gym. A workout was what she thought she needed until she realized her pent-up aggression wasn't going anywhere. After clashing with the blonde know-it-all from Mississippi, she knew she needed to make a date with the punching bag.

"Who pissed you off?" she heard Officer Lilly comment. Isabella snorted derisively at the question.

"Humanity in general," she responded. She peeled off the black gloves she'd thrown on and unwound the tape from her hands, wadding it up in a ball and tossing it into the trash. "That new girl pissed me off. Where does she get off, telling me how to handle interrogations or that it's not okay to use force to get someone who's being uncooperative?"

_"You catch more flies with honey than vinegar," Ward had chirped to Isabella when she shoved Kingston Fisher into lockup and slammed the door shut._

_"How's about you don't tell me how to handle myself and my job? I've done this job for a while now, I think I've got the hang of it," Isabella snapped._

"You need to work on yo' people skills, girl," he told her. She shook her head.

"People who aren't my superiors need to quit telling me what to do. I don't take kindly to newbies giving me pointers on being nice. You don't get very far in this job by being nice," she informed him. He chuckled.

"I can't say I disagree with you," he remarked. She tightened the lace on her black Pumas and cracked her knuckles. "I gotta warn you though, honey, you're the new subject of gossip."

She groaned, leaning her head back. "What are they saying now? Am I still in an illicit affair with Sinclair or have I downgraded to Gerard?"

"Nah, they're saying that you're banging Flack now," he said. His dark eyes searched her face. Her eyes widened in shock and tightened her pony-tail.

"That's way not anyone's business," she said. Okay, that wasn't all _that _far off the mark. After a heavy-duty make-out session on her couch after dinner last night, things had almost gotten a bit far. Flack was damn talented with his hands and mouth. "What do you think?"

"Yeah, I didn't peg you the type of girl that'd do that to her brother," he replied. Her eyebrow arched in surprise and she crossed her arms over her chest. "He's your brother's partner and your best friend's supervisor. That's a bit of a low blow, don't you think?"

_Jess is banging my brother slash one of her supervisors. I highly doubt she'd mind my dating the other supervisor, _she thought. _Now, the issue of my brother, that's a different story._

"Yeah, I can't say I disagree with you," she answered smoothly. She stamped her toe on the mat absently, chewing the inside of her lip as she studied the blue rubber surface in front of her. "If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna get back to my workout."

"By the way, Pacino...NYU's gonna kick the crap outta UNC this weekend," Lilly told her with a wink. Isabella rolled her eyes. Her alma mater was the focal point of lots of jibes and jokes as far as sports went.

"Hell, no, Lilly. You know God loves UNC. That's why the sky is Carolina blue," she returned. Her gaze lifted when she saw Levi lingering near the mat.

"Officer, I'd like a few moments alone with my sister, please," he requested. Lilly looked from brother to sister before walking away with a nod. Levi's dark eyes moved back to Isabella and he moved his hand from his jaw. "I've been hearing interesting rumors about you and a certain detective and I want to clear the air before launching an attack at the next bastard who talks down to you."

"The rumors I'm sleeping with Flack. Yeah, Lilly just asked me about it. I'm not sleeping with him, don't worry. And even if we were, it's none of anyone's business but his and mine. I'm only answering your question because you're my brother and I know you're just trying to look out for me," she replied, looking up at him. "I look all little and helpless, but I'm a grown woman who has handled herself since before she moved to the big city."

* * *

When Isabella first met Terrence Davis, it was when she was a greenhorn detective with her lieutenant in Narcotics and Vice. Terrence had friends in low places. Low places meant down in the Dirty South where she once lived and worked.

She pulled her aviator sunglasses off her face and set them on top of her head as she took in the club before her. Jungle theme seemed a bit overdone, but tasteful nonetheless, she supposed.

She racked her memory for the face that belonged to Terrence Davis. Hopefully she wasn't drawing too much attention to herself. The sound of music was low in volume, the smells of the 'jungle' filling the air. In trying to stay discreet, she pulled her badge from her belt and slipped it on the chain around her neck.

"This place is weird," Detective Ward commented. Isabella glanced at her coolly and straightened her black blazer out as she took in the room. Metal-rimmed black vinyl stools scattered about the room, the flooring a sort of bamboo. The heel of her boot was in danger of getting wedged in a small knothole and she freed her foot.

"It's a themed club. They don't have 'em in Mississippi?" she remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. She locked gazes with a bouncer and he disappeared into the back.

"Do they have 'em in Wilmington?" Ward asked.

"Occasionally. We're a tourist trap among Party Central," Isabella answered. Terrence Davis was a well-built African-American man who didn't stand more than several inches taller than she, but carried himself as if he were. "Terrence Davis. You don't call and you don't write. I'm starting to think those few days back in Wilmington didn't mean anything."

Her eyebrow arched and she smirked at him. His dark gaze took in her petite frame and her ice-blue eyes.

"Detective Tar Heel," he said, shaking his head. "Without a doubt Carolina's finest."

"And don't you forget it. Unfortunately, this ain't a social visit and I'm here to once again get all up in your boots to get some information about Victoria Foster," she informed him.

"You and Britney Spears over here can get all up in whatever you're into, honey," he replied, taking in Detective Ward, whose ear-tips were beginning to turn red.

"_Honey, _you can't handle either one of us," she quipped despite herself.

_Nice one, Missy, _Isabella thought approvingly. "We're here to talk about Victoria Foster, not reminisce about the glory days."

"Who says we can't talk about both?" Terrence asked, looking them both over. "All work and very little play has made Detective Tar-Heel a very dull woman."

"Mm, I'm a grownup now. Got a badge of my very own and 'cuffs and everything. So how's about you answer my questions a'fores I have to use them both to get what I want?" Isabella snapped. She pulled out the autopsy photo and slid it in front of him, showing Victoria Foster's face. "According to Kingston Fisher, she worked for you as a waitress."

"Yeah, I knew her. She was cool," he replied. "What happened?"

"She died from a near beheading with a very small, sharp tool," Ward spoke up.

Isabella jerked her chin up and nodded to the blonde. "Where were you around seven o'clock three nights ago?" she inquired to Terrence.

"I was here, setting up for the night crowd. I give you permission to check up on me, Blue Eyes," he responded.

"I'm so privileged," she said dryly. "I'll get the surveillance, Detective Ward. Go see if you can round some employees and get their stories." Ward grimaced, but didn't argue. After all, how could she? Isabella was the CSI and she was the detective.

Isabella would rather work with Flack, Levi, Angell, or Scagnetti. They knew how to get the job done and none of them took shit from anyone.

She would rather be with Flack. Ever since she'd pushed him off her a few nights ago when things had nearly gone a bit too far, he had politely kept his distance, both on and off the clock.

"Sure thing, Detective Pacino," Ward said. She disappeared from the room and Isabella looked over at Terrence.

"Don't leave town, Davis," she told him. She peeled a card out of her wallet and flicked it in his direction. "I'll be in touch."


	9. A Little Heart-To-Heart

_**A/N: Adriana's come back to town O: I'm ready to write a confrontation  
**_

_**Rain: She becomes okay later on, just to tell you lol **_

_**Annie: Aw, thank you! I really like Isabella's attitude as well. There will be more fluff coming soon, just to give you something to look forward to!**_

* * *

_The bitch is hungry, she needs to tell  
So give her inches and feed her well  
More days to come, new places to go  
I've got to leave, it's time for a show_

The Scorpions — Rock You Like a Hurricane

* * *

Isabella knocked back her second beer in an hour and tossed back a shot of whiskey. The liquid fire burned in her veins as she slammed the shot glass back down on the bar hard. She knew Adriana was on her way to the bar and she needed to get her drinking done so she could leave, hopefully without a fight. In Sullivan's, however, anything was possible.

Levi was a nervous wreck. He sat at the back of the bar, staring at the door. Isabella made sure she stuck close to her brother, for her own peace of mind, not to mention her physical safety. When Adriana walked through the door, all bets were off.

"When she gets here, Iz, be nice," he warned. She picked at the label on her beer bottle in annoyance.

"You're asking the impossible from her, you know that, right?" she heard Don comment behind her. She felt very warm when he moved in closer proximity, and better. Then she heard the door open and the freakishly tall woman saunter in. Adriana looked sick with her face sunken in and her brown eyes standing out almost like a Chihuahua. Isabella felt her brother stiffen next to her and she reached out to touch his arm soothingly. He flinched at the feeling and she squeezed his forearm.

Nearly black eyes locked on nearly violet. Adriana sized up the tiny brunette sitting next to her oldest son and her eyes narrowed.

Isabella didn't want to give Adriana a fight, but the sound of her knuckles cracking against her face would be music to her ears. Her jaw set as she moved to further shield Levi from his mother's prying gaze.

"Armando," Adriana addressed Levi. She gave Isabella a courteous nod. Isabella felt Don's hands tighten on her waist, as if he were ready to either bolt out the door at a moment's notice or yank her off in the case of a fight.

"You remember my sister, Isabella. This is a friend of mine from work, Detective Flack," Levi informed her coldly, getting down from his stool and towering over her. "You're not getting any more money from me, Adriana."

Adriana bristled at the use of her given name. "I'm your mother, Armando. Don't disrespect me by calling me by my name," she said.

"When you don't bully or belittle your son, you'll earn the title," Isabella muttered under her breath before she could stop herself. Don squeezed her shoulder warningly, but she ignored it. She wanted to get between her brother and his mother, to act as a barrier. Even though she was younger than Levi, she was far more protective of him than most little sisters.

Adriana's coffee-colored eyes turned to face Isabella and the beginnings of a sneer began to take over her face. "And then there's you. The arrogant little shit who got that one lucky shot at me," she commented.

"The same arrogant shit that can still knock you down," Isabella shot back hotly. Her aggression was at an all-time high and she itched for a fight. "I'm here to make sure none of the other cops here give you the ass-beating you deserve."

"They gave a little psycho like you a gun and let you loose on the city? There's no accounting for taste," Adriana sneered. Isabella moved to get down from her stool, but Don pinned her there with his hands.

"Cool it," he muttered in her ear.

"I think it's best if you left," Levi commented. He moved in front of Isabella, this time acting as a physical barrier. "I mean it. Now."

"This is a public establishment, Armando. I don't have to leave if I don't want to," Adriana said, folding her skinny arms over her flat chest. Isabella fought a snort. A gentle breeze could knock her down. With Levi's money, she clearly wasn't buying food for herself. With her eyes bloodshot like that, the way her pupils constricted, and the way she seemed jittery and aggressive, Isabella was willing to bet that Adriana was a user. "I want the money you owe me."

"I don't owe you jack shit," Levi retorted. "I want you out of this bar and into a rehab."

Isabella lifted her hand to touch Don's, holding his fingers tightly. She glanced up at him warily.

"I don't need rehab," Adriana insisted. Levi glanced at Isabella and she slid down from her stool. "What, you're gonna use _her _as a bouncer?"

"I don't want to see you anymore, Adriana. Leave now or I will show you the door," he told her. Don released Isabella's shoulders and slipped in front of her, Levi gripping Adriana's arm and nudging her toward the front of Sullivan's. "And don't make a scene."

"You'll regret this," Adriana hissed as Levi dragged her through the bar by the arm. Isabella watched her go with gritted teeth.

"I'm really thinking mean thoughts about that bitch," she stated. Her reward for her restraint was Don's thumbs caressing the knots of tension in her shoulders. "If you stop now, I will bite you."

He calmed her. When he wasn't around, she always found herself looking for him.

"She pissed you off and you didn't punch her. I'm proud of you," he commented. She leaned her head back to look up at him with a small smile.

"Well, I guess I'm not a crazy psycho anymore," she returned. He kissed her forehead.

"But you're still an arrogant little shit," he said. She gasped indignantly and slapped his hands away from her shoulders.

"Rude!" she scolded. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her again, his lips brushing her hairline.

"Still true, but then again, we all gotta be a little arrogant to get through this job, right?" he commented. She rolled her eyes and nudged him playfully.

"What about the little shit comment?" she said, tilting her head back to see massive shit-eating grin on his handsome face. "You're a shit, not me."

"Not how I see it, Little Pacino," he shot back, using her old nickname from her rookie days. Without warning, his arms tightened around her and her stool slipped out from under her. Isabella let out a shriek, trying to find her footing. Don chuckled low in her ear, releasing his grip on her.

"If I didn't know any better, Detective Flack, I'd think you were trying to flirt with me," she remarked, reaching on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. He bent down to kiss her and she stuffed a lime wedge in his mouth. He jumped in surprise and she let out a squeal and a laugh, dancing away from him. "That's for calling me a shit and for yanking my stool out from under me." She giggled and turned around, running full into a broad chest. Her head lifted and she saw a pair of dark brown eyes blazing down at her.

Levi.

* * *

Levi looked from his younger sister to his partner. There was definitely something going on between them; Flack didn't wrap his arms around just anyone.

Before Izzy stuffed a lime in his mouth, Levi was certain Flack intended to kiss her. There were few things Levi protected at all costs and his sister was one. People teased him in high school because his little sister was his best friend and he would do anything to protect her.

Izzy had an image to uphold at work. At work, she was the fearless, tenacious detective who didn't take anything from anyone. Off work, she was the goofy, random, fun-loving, smart-mouth he knew and loved. She had a tender heart that very few people got to see, the one she reserved for very close friends and family.

Whoever saw that side was a lucky bastard. That lucky bastard had once been Chase Matthews, but he hadn't been able to handle it.

Flack looked at her like she deserved and Levi liked that.

"Hey, Flack, come take a walk with me," Levi suggested. Isabella's baby-blues widened and she opened her mouth to say something. He winked at her and she glanced nervously over her shoulder, her eyebrow crinkling with concern. "I won't bite him, I promise."

"You'd better not," she finally conceded before hopping back up on the stool. He could see the reluctance in her eyes as she watched them go. That told him everything he needed to know.

It wasn't love yet, but it was getting there. Levi felt the cool rush of the autumn night air and glanced at the shorter man.

"If you're gonna ask me to stay away from Izzy, save your breath," Flack informed him. From the protective edge in his voice, Levi knew he was telling the truth.

"What good would it do? You'd keep pursuing her and she'd keep letting you catch her. I can try to talk her out of it till I'm blue in the face," he replied. He lit up a cigarette and blew out the smoke quickly. "I just want to know why you didn't tell me."

"When I first met you and found out about your history, I asked you how you managed to get out of it with your sanity semi-intact," Flack explained.

"And I stand by my answer. My sister," Levi responded.

"Iz is special to me, always has been. I'm not out to hurt her, I'm not like Matthews. We're two adults trying to figure out where this thing between us is going," Flack told him.

Levi found himself quiet as he took another drag off his cigarette, flicking the ash on the sidewalk. Ordinarily, he didn't smoke, but tonight was stressful, what with Adriana and now his sister dating his partner.

This was how he felt when he met Jess's brother Jamie a month ago. The same hopefulness of approval, the speech of good intentions...

"She's not as tough as she lets on, Don. Isabella doesn't let people in and the people she lets in...they're in for life. Anyone who abuses that is probably the sickest son of a bitch alive. This is where I'm gonna tell you flat-out that if you hurt my little sister, I can guarantee that I will personally kick your ass. Literally. You may be one of my best friends, but if you intentionally hurt her, you will wear cement shoes to go swimming in the Hudson. Capisce?" he said, pointing the cigarette in the other man's face.

Damn, now he felt like Nonno. Armando the Second threatened people with that phrase. Levi curled his lip at the thought. He didn't want to have anything to do with that part of his family.

"Capisco," Flack replied honestly. Levi stomped out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Just...take care of her, alright? Like I said, she's one of the most important people in the entire world to me. Treat her right, don't be a dick, and get ready for the ride of your life."


End file.
